


Kise no Copy

by aiwritingfic



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball, Skip Beat!
Genre: Acting, Actors, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Basketball, Canon Era, Character Study, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, High School, Major Original Character(s), Minor Canonical Character(s), Original Character(s), Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiwritingfic/pseuds/aiwritingfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Oct 11, 2014: This story is officially dropped.  I'm very sorry if you were looking forward to more, and I do apologize, but I'm not feeling it and don't have the ability to write it any more.  If anyone wants to take this idea and run with it, please be my guest!]</p><p>Kise Ryouta is a bored young model coasting through life until he meets Tsuruga Ren. Fascinated by Tsuruga's acting skills, Kise joins LME Productions, but unlike in modeling, Kise's natural athleticism, charisma, and ability to quickly copy someone else's physical movements aren't enough for a newcomer to compete on Tsuruga's level.  Before he can throw himself into that world, however, Kise finds something else that similarly occupies his interest.  If he doesn't choose between a career that won't accommodate him and a sport he starts too late, he's going to fail them both.  Will Kise find his own path to greatness, or will he lose his way in the sea of talent that surrounds him? </p><p>Canon divergence crossover AU in which Kise Ryouta chases Tsuruga Ren into the world of entertainment... and then meets Aomine Daiki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [troisroyaumes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/troisroyaumes/gifts), [Ver (verloren1983)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verloren1983/gifts), [mmmdraco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmdraco/gifts).



> For **Lynn** , the person Kise!Ai chases, who dragged me into first Tenipuri and then Hikago, and is still prodding me along patiently to this day. (I'm sorry I'm such a recalcitrant child!) For **Tari** , who lets me whine and complain even though she has ten thousand other things on her plate too, and who always manages to see the good in me even when I show the bad. (Thank you for always believing!) For **Ver** , who even attempted Twitter for me. (Now THAT is true friendship. ^_~) For **Kimmie** , who makes time (and COOKIES) for me, and who gifted me the BEST cookie recipe I have ever tasted. And for **everyone** who helped me with suggestions, ideas, beta duty, or just listened to me as I whined, bashed my head daily against whatever hard or semi-hard surface happened to be handy, and never stopped telling me I could do it. I am who I am and what I am because of you all, and I hope this story manages to even the scales a little bit.
> 
> (With much love, affection, and GRATITUDE to my betas Lynn, Tari, Kimmie, Pei Yi, Tor, and Ghis, for helping me in a myriad of ways to avoid making a bigger fool of myself than I already am, and to Ontogenesis, Macey, and Pat for being great bouncy surfaces for ideas. It takes a village to write longfic, apparently, at least where I'm concerned. T_T All errors and omissions are my own.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kise Ryouta meets Tsuruga Ren.

It was a cool spring Monday, the second one of the school year. Kise Ryouta, a second-year at Teikou Middle School, wasn’t in school. While his classmates were listening to Yamashita-sensei drone on about sines and cosines, Kise was in a studio in Shibuya, standing on a roll of white background paper, dressed head-to-toe in Tommy Hilfiger. Even though this wasn’t super exciting or anything, it was still a lot more fun than class. Kise grinned at the three different cameras in front of him. 

“Tilt your head to the left!”

“Flirt with the camera!”

“Over here, Kise-kun, eyelashes, bat them here!”

“Switch cameras, reload!” one of the photographers—Mori-san—yelled. His assistant—Mai-chan—ran up with another Nikon, identical to the first, and they traded in an instant. Mori-san elbowed his way to the fore. “Kise-kun, give me everything!”

Kise locked eyes with the camera, smiled, then turned it into a grin. He turned, presenting his right side—Mori-san seemed to prefer that side to Kise’s left—and tilted his head to the left, then grabbed his hat and lifted it in salute as he batted eyelashes at Mori-san’s camera.

“Time’s up!” someone shouted in the background.

“Perfect,” Mori-san said. 

Kise knew what was coming next, and so when Mori-san walked up and hugged Kise, Kise was ready, careful not to bump the camera as he patted Mori-san’s back. “Did you get the shots you wanted?” Kise asked, knowing the answer. Mori-san was one of his regular photographers, and Nee-chan had made it perfectly clear Kise was to treat him as if Mori-san were Kise’s favorite uncle. 

“Somewhere in those six rolls is the shot that will make you famous,” Mori-san said. He hugged Kise again and then released him, patting him on the back as he turned. “Mai-chan, make sure they’re treated right!” (“Yes sir!”)

Kise waved. “Thanks, Mori-san. That was fun. I love working with you and the rest of your crew.” He raised his voice. “Thank you to everyone for yet another awesome shoot!” (“You got it!” “Thanks for a good one, Kise-kun!” “See ya!”) 

He walked off the set slowly, heading towards Nee-san and today’s producer Chiyoda-san. It was hard not to drag his feet. He might have escaped Yamashita-sensei, but after mathematics was Japanese history, and at the rate they were going, Kise would be back on school grounds before lunchtime. Oh well. Maybe the school cafeteria would have something interesting, and Kise knew the lunch lady liked him. If it was something good, perhaps he could persuade her to let him have something early. Nee-san held out a bottle of water wrapped in a towel. Kise drank thirstily, then slowed to savor it. Oh, right, Crystal Geyser, the brand stocked in the vending machine downstairs. 

“Well-done, Kise-kun,” Chiyoda-san was saying. “Kise-san, thank you so much for coming. A great shoot, as usual. It’s always a pleasure working with you two. Will Kise-kun be all right with the other thing?”

“I’m sure he will, but we’ll check right now.” Nee-san nudged him. “Ryouta, how was it?”

“Great!” Kise said. He hefted the bottle; it wasn’t quite empty, but he’d definitely drunk a lot of it. He gulped the rest down, then turned to his sister with a smile. Mustn’t look bored in front of the producer. “I love working with Mori-san. He makes it fun.”

“Think you’re up to one more thing today?”

Kise paused in the middle of screwing the bottle cap back on. Something else was on the schedule after this? “What’s up?”

Chiyoda-san wrung his hands. “The thing is, Kise-kun, I got a call from a friend who’s a director, and he’s filming next door. He needs a few more extras today. I said I’d send you over when you were done with the photoshoot. If that’s okay?”

Kise looked at his sister, who nodded. Kise shrugged. “Sure, it sounds like fun, and we don’t have anything else planned. It pays, right?” His sister nodded, so Kise shrugged again. He didn’t really care either way, and going to a movie shoot hopefully meant he wouldn’t have to be back in class that afternoon. Being a movie extra meant hanging around in the background pretending he was being a regular guy doing regular guy things, and that was boring, but it was still better than school, and his sister had been sighing over Kise’s accounts lately. “I’ll go change now.”

* * *

The studio next door looked normal from the outside, but when he followed Nee-san past the security guards and onto the set, Kise’s eyes widened. There were several people here, milling around, some sitting, but their surroundings definitely weren’t what Kise had expected when they’d opened the door. “Whoa,” he said. “Cool.” 

Nee-san looked rather impressed, too. “Was this really necessary?” she said, taking in the bank counters, the waiting benches, the teller windows, the wallpaper, and the carpeting. “Wouldn’t it have been cheaper or easier to rent a bank on a Sunday or something?”

Kise didn’t know the answer, but a man standing nearby said, “The insurance would actually have cost more than renting these props and furniture. Or so the AD said.” 

Both of them turned to look at the man. Kise noted the glasses (wire rims), haircut (bowl cuts weren’t common, but this guy managed to carry it off), business suit (good quality, though still ready-to-wear), tie (silk, standard) and shoes (leather, well-worn, decently cared for.) He didn’t seem like someone of authority and no one was being particularly solicitous of him, but he still looked like a producer type. Kise wondered if he was playing the bank manager. They were on a movie set that looked like a bank, after all.

Nee=san gasped. “Yashiro-senpai? Oh wow, it’s really you! Do you remember me?” Kise openly stared as his sister squealed and rushed up to the man. 

The man blinked, and then recognition came. “Kise Suzuka-san! Fancy seeing you here! What brings you? Are you acting as an extra today?” 

“Oh, not me.” Nee-san had always been somewhat self-conscious of her weight, and Kise could see her pull herself taller and suck her stomach in even as she shook her head. “Chiyoda-san sent my brother down here to help out. I’m just making sure Ryouta doesn’t make trouble.”

Yashiro-san smiled at Kise and reached out a hand. “Kise Ryouta-kun? Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Yashiro-san,” Kise said, shaking the man’s hand. “Are you playing a bank manager?”

“Haha! No, but I should have suggested it.” Yashiro-san glanced at Nee-san. “Well, he got the manager part right.”

“Set manager?” Nee-san asked.

“Oh, no, nothing useful like that. I’m in charge of that guy over there,” Yashiro-san said gesturing to the back of the set where three men were talking. They were too far away to study, but Kise could tell two of them wore suits, one suit a little darker than the other. The third man—the tallest of the three—was dressed like a police officer. 

Nee-san gasped again. “You’re Tsuruga Ren’s manager. Wow, Yashiro-senpai, that’s amazing! Congratulations! How long has it been?” 

“About three years,” Yashiro-san said. He took his glasses off and polished them. “Frankly, his career has been amazing! It’s hard to believe my luck with assignments, still.”

“Oh gosh, yes—“

She was interrupted by a loud electronic squawk. 

“May I have your attention please?” One of the businessmen was now holding a megaphone. “Attention, everyone.”

“Ah, looks like we’re starting,” Yashiro-san said. 

“Extras, over here.” The man gestured towards what was clearly supposed to be the bank lobby. Kise felt his sister give him a push, so he ambled over, joining a group of people who looked like they’d walked in off the street. An older woman, nicely dressed. A younger woman, business casual. Two guys who looked like salarymen, a middle-aged man in a suit, a blue-collar worker of some sort with somewhat-grubby work pants. Two women were wearing what looked like a bank uniform. It wasn’t exactly like any real uniform—the color wasn’t the right shade—but Kise guessed this was supposed to be a Mizuho bank branch. He was definitely the youngest one there, but kids went into banks too, and Kise knew he could pass for a high school student if he were just in the background. He was glad he wasn’t wearing any school insignia right now. He wondered what the scene was going to be about.

Megaphone Man cleared his throat. “All right, everyone. This is a bank, if you haven’t already guessed.” 

Some of the other extras chuckled. 

“Today we’re going to be shooting a bank robbery scene. You’re all customers. Some of you at the windows, some of you waiting in chairs, just spread yourself out normally. Just act like you would if a robber had really come into a bank. Be quiet, be scared, or just hide. Totally up to you. No loud screams, please, though if you gasp or otherwise make some quiet noises it’s okay. Don’t be a hero—we have one picked out already!”

Even Kise, bored as he had been, chuckled as the policeman waved and saluted. Megaphone Man signaled, and the policeman walked off the set and out of sight.

“Robber-kun, are you ready? Yes? Great! Okay, extras. Spread out, let’s have a bank lobby at lunchtime.” 

The megaphone clicked off. The other extras milled around. Kise saw a line forming. For want of any better ideas, he grabbed a form off a counter and joined the end of the line. Two of the counters had bank tellers behind them, and the first two ‘customers’ in line headed towards them. It had been barely a minute, but it was amazing how fast everyone had moved. Kise looked around, feigning boredom, which wasn’t hard to do when standing in line, even if the line was purely for appearances’ sake. Any moment, now…

“Action.”

He’d been expecting it, so he didn’t jump, but his heart rate sped up. This was it! It would probably be bad if he looked around, so he looked at the form in his hands and then at the line. Still five people before him. 

“Next customer please!”

Oh. Maybe it wasn’t show time yet. Did the movie need such a long scene of people standing in line at a bank? Oh well. The director knew what he was doing. Kise shuffled forward, moving with the line. He stretched surreptitiously and checked. Only four people in front of him now. Did he really have to stand in line like this? He shifted from one foot to the next. This was getting boring already. Maybe he should have gotten a second bottle of water. There was one in the lobby; he’d grab one after this take was o— 

“ _EVERYONE FREEZE!_ ”

Kise jumped and turned, instinctively seeking the source of that voice. The man—average height, broad-shouldered, stocking pulled over his face to hide his features—held a gun. Kise stared at it, and his heart started beating faster. Boy, he knew this was a movie, but even so, that gun looked _real_. Another man of similar height and build was checking the doors, locking them. 

“Down on the floor!” the first man said, waving his gun menacingly. “Put your hands on your heads, and no one try to be a hero!”

The second robber walked up and pointed his gun at Kise. “You,” the man said, and grabbed Kise. 

“Whoa!” Kise stumbled as he was roughly pulled out of the line. 

The second robber shoved him towards the counters, and Kise stiffened and raised his hands as the gun pressed into his back. The first man thrust two bags at the bank tellers. “Fill them, or the cutie here gets it.” 

Kise winced as the gun was jabbed in his back again, but didn’t say anything. He watched the girls fill the bags and stole glances at the robbers, trying to see their faces. 

The second man jabbed the gun into Kise’s neck. Kise froze. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it,” the robber warned. He shouted at his partner. “Oi, hurry up, we haven’t got all day. The cops will be here any—”

“ _FREEZE!_ ”

Kise _did_ jump at that, but managed to stop himself from turning around just in time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the policeman, gun aimed at the robbers. 

It dawned on Kise that he, Kise Ryouta, was in the middle of the potential cross-fire. _Um. I really hope those guns are fake._

“Sergeant Horio,” one of the robbers sneered. “Too bad you’re all alone. By the time your backup gets here, we’ll be long gone.” 

“You okay, kid?” the policeman asked, ignoring the robber.

Kise nodded, but the robber’s grip on his shirt tightened, and he stopped. The robber dragged Kise behind a counter, keeping Kise between him and the policeman. Somewhere in the back of Kise’s mind, he noted that both of them were now shielding the robber at the counter from the policeman. 

His eyes met those of the policeman. The policeman nodded. Hope surged through Kise. 

“Let the kid go,” said the policeman. 

The robber at the counter shouted at the girls. “Who told you to stop? KEEP FILLING THOSE BAGS!”

The policeman had two hands on the gun now, and Kise shivered as the tension in the air solidified, bracing himself. Would it be bad if he dodged when the shooting started? Was he supposed to stand there and not move, or would the actors know which way Kise was going to throw himself? Perhaps he could hide under the counter? What if he ran into the policeman or the robbers and ruined the scene? Nee-san would be disappointed; she’d been talking about getting him some roles like this, extras, maybe working up towards small roles. No, he’d let the actors run the show and take his cue from them somehow… but how would the actors tell him what to do?

He felt the collective gasp before the shot, felt the robber’s hand on his shirt loosen, saw the robber fall beside him, red spreading through the man’s shirt. Kise’s knees buckled and he fell to his feet as the policeman leapt over the counter gracefully. More shots were fired.

It was all over in a second.

He gaped at the scene before him. The two robbers lay dead on the floor, and the policeman was completely unscratched. The policeman walked up to him. “Are you hurt?” he asked, extending Kise a hand.

“No, sir,” Kise said, unable to pick his jaw off the floor even as he picked his body up and stood shakily.

“Good.” The policeman patted his shoulder in a fatherly way. “You were brave, kid. Good job keeping it together.” The policeman turned to the rest of the customers in the lobby. “Thank you, everyone, for remaining calm. I apologize that you had to go through this, but the situation is under control now.”

Spontaneous applause broke throughout the lobby. 

“CUT! That’s a wrap! One take! Well done, Tsuruga-kun, well done!”

* * *

The first thing Kise did—as soon as he realized it was all right to move normally—was run to his sister. “Did you see that, Nee-san?” Kise said breathlessly. “Oh wow, he was _so COOL_!” In his mind’s eye, Kise could see it all again: the stance, the shot, the leap, the quick shot. Unable to help himself—it had been _amazing_ —he did the whole sequence again, pretending some crates were the counter, leaping over them just like Sergeant Horio had. “He did that, and that, and that, bam bam bam, and he was _SO COOL_!” 

“Oh?” Yashiro-san said, and Kise realized he’d forgotten the other man was there. “My, that was a good copy. Tsuruga-kun had to practice that a few times, but you picked that up immediately!” 

Kise straightened, suddenly embarrassed, and looked at his sister. “Um.” He scratched the back of his head, remembering where he was. 

Nee-san laughed. “Ryouta’s a quick mimic. It’s helped with the modeling. It’s only been a year since he started, but he’s got a name for being pretty reliable now, thanks to that.”

“You don’t say?” Yashiro-san looked at Kise. “What did you think of Sergeant Horio, Kise-kun?”

Kise grinned. If Nee-san liked him, Yashiro-san was probably a nice guy. “I was seriously worried for a moment there. I hadn’t expected to be taken hostage, and those guns looked _real_. Then Sergeant Horio showed up, and when I met his eyes and he nodded, I totally forgot he was just acting! I felt like he’d really protect me and make sure I was okay, you know? He’s seriously awesome. You know him, don’t you, Yashiro-san? Can you introduce me? I want to say hi and tell him how amazing he was!”

“That sounded heartfelt.” The actor who played the policeman walked up and gave Kise a dazzling smile. “Sergeant Horio, at your service. Though this guy—” he thumbed a finger at Yashiro-san— “calls me Tsuruga Ren.”

“Tsuruga-san,” Kise said, mesmerized. “You were seriously _awesome_. I mean, _seriously_. Can you teach me how you did that?”

Yashiro-san laughed. “Unfortunately, we don’t have the time, since the director will want the next scene in a few seconds.” He reached into his coat, pulled out a business card, and handed it to Nee-san. “You know, our agency is always looking for talent, and there’s an audition coming up in the near future.”

It took a moment for Kise to connect the dots. “So if I pass the audition I could work with you every day?” he said, looking at Tsuruga Ren. He hoped the audition was tomorrow.

Tsuruga-san and Yashiro-san exchanged glances. Tsuruga-san smiled that dazzling smile again. “It’s possible. You’ll have to bring it up with Yashiro-san. He controls my schedule.”

Kise grinned. Tsuruga-san was amazing. “Nee-san, please,” Kise said, tugging on his sister’s arm.

“Yashiro-senpai, _thank you_ ,” Nee-san said, carefully tucking the business card away. “I’ll call you later, if you don’t mind? I have to get him back to school, since I only got permission for the morning.”

Kise’s heart sank. Oh boy. Even after this, he wasn’t getting out of school today? He gazed longingly at Tsuruga-san, who paused in the middle of drinking some water. Tsuruga-san studied Kise for a moment, and Kise took the opportunity to study Tsuruga-san. He was tall, though Kise wasn’t that much shorter, and now that Kise was looking at him properly, he looked a lot younger now…

“Tsuruga-san, how old are you?” Kise blurted.

Tsuruga-san took another sip from his bottle. “Eighteen.”

“Seriously?” Kise’s jaw dropped; he could have sworn Sergeant Horio was a lot older than that. “But you felt so much older!”

Yashiro-san laughed. “My, Tsuruga-kun, it looks like you have a new fan. How old are you, Kise-kun?”

“Fourteen,” Kise said, still goggling at the idea that he’d trusted his life to someone barely out of high school. 

“Time to go,” Nee-san said firmly. “Yashiro-senpai, thank you again. Tsuruga-san,” and Nee-san blushed. “Thank you for taking care of my brother.”

“Of course,” Tsuruga-san said. He nodded politely at Nee-san, and then at Kise. “Good luck.”

* * *

It wasn’t until they were settled in the car that Tsuruga asked, “Who was that? You seemed to be well-acquainted. She called you senpai.”

Yashiro-san buckled in. Tsuruga had just gotten his license not that long ago. From the speed with which Tsuruga had obtained his license, it was clear he’d driven before, but Yashiro was taking no chances. Safety first. “Kise-san? I knew her from university. We were in the Business Club together. I graduated the year she joined us, though. It’s amazing I recognized her!”

“Oh, I see,” Tsuruga-kun said. 

Yashiro raised his eyebrows. “That’s all?”

“I was just wondering why you were so familiar with a woman I’d never met before.” The car reversed out of the spot, and then they were moving forward. “Where to?”

“There are things you still don’t know about me, Tsuruga-kun,” Yashiro said, wagging his finger. “Back to the studio.” 

They drove in silence for a while before Yashiro could stand it no longer. “And? What do you think about the boy? Kise-kun?”

“Her brother?” 

“Yes. He’s a model. Only been doing it a year, but Kise-san says she’s getting regular requests for him. From the looks of it, he can act, too!” Yashiro waited, but Tsuruga Ren could be annoyingly inscrutable when he wanted to be, and right now it looked like he wanted to be. “Well? Aren’t you curious?”

“He’s athletic.”

“Aha,” Yashiro said. “You _did_ see him mimic you.”

Tsuruga shrugged. 

Yashiro smiled and turned his attention back to the road. Tsuruga drove pretty well even down narrow streets. Yashiro made a mental note to discover whether Tsuruga could do more than just drive normally. There was always demand for actors who looked natural behind the wheel. 

After a few more minutes, Yashiro said innocently, “I wonder if he’ll audition?”

“Are you recruiting my competition already, Yashiro-san? Is that what managers do?”

Yashiro chuckled. “Oh, is he competition?”

Tsuruga’s mouth thinned, and the car sped up. 

“Tsuruga-kun, I was only joking!” Yashiro gripped the seatbelt, wailing. “Please slow down! _Please!_ ”


	2. Audition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kise auditions for LME.

The second Saturday after Yashiro-san gave Nee-san his business card, Kise sat on a bench in the back of a waiting room at LME Productions, idly checking his phone for mail and news. He’d recently subscribed to a couple of tabloid newsletters, looking for information about Tsuruga Ren. _Meteoric Rise of the Next Generation’s Top Star_ , screamed one article. _Cutting A Swathe Through Japan’s Entertainment World_ , claimed another. _Is There Anything Tsuruga Ren Can’t Do?_ trumpeted a third. Kise grinned. Apparently Tsuruga Ren was more amazing than Kise had seen; Kise couldn’t wait to see just how amazing. Even if the tabloids were exaggerating things, there was always some sort of truth behind the articles, right?

He glanced at the time on his phone. There was still half an hour to go. They’d have gotten here earlier if Kise had been able to persuade Nee-san that eight o’clock in the morning was the right time to set off on a half-hour trip to a ten o’clock audition. Of course, Nee-san had been right about the end result being sitting around and twiddling thumbs and was right now enjoying a book over a leisurely cup of coffee at the cafe next door, but Kise preferred to sit here in the waiting room. 

Nee-san had insisted Kise get a bottle of orange juice, and it now sat untouched in Kise’s bag next to his barely-touched bottle of water (Mt Fuji, from the vending machine in the LME lobby). Kise couldn’t eat anything right now, he was too impatient for things to get going. A couple of the guys who’d gotten here before Kise looked like they were about to throw up. Kise tried not to stare at one guy who was alternating regularly between pacing, sitting quietly in a corner and trembling, or doing stretching exercises. 

The room slowly filled as the audition got closer. Kise stretched, one eye browsing through news articles about Tsuruga Ren and LME, the other eye sizing newcomers up as they filed in. This one looked confident, that one’s hands shook, the one over there didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Kise watched one guy juggling bottles next to another guy who was mumbling to himself and checking a piece of paper occasionally. Some guys were sitting in circles on the floor chatting with each other. Kise half-envied them. 

The door opened again, and Kise glanced at the tall blond who’d just walked in, senses on alert. If this had been a casting call for a photoshoot, Kise would have been concerned about the newcomer. Blond hair wasn’t uncommon in modeling, but blond hair that long, on a tall and slim guy like this one? It had been a while since Kise had had to compete with anyone who matched Kise’s own stats. 

Their eyes met. The guy paused mid-step, and then walked towards Kise, stopping right in front of him. He gestured at the empty space on the bench next to Kise. “Is anyone sitting there?”

“Spot’s yours,” Kise said, watching the other guy sit down. Since the other guy was openly looking Kise over, Kise didn’t feel the need to hide his own observation. They were about the same height on the bench, and their legs were about the same length. The other guy’s hair was a lighter shade of yellow, and much longer, and of course, their faces looked different, but Kise could tell this guy had something to back the confidence Kise could feel emanating from him. 

Their eyes met again, and the guy grinned. “Can’t blame you, I’m checking you out too,” he said. He extended a hand. “Miroku. I’m a drummer.”

“Kise Ryouta.” Kise shook his hand. “Model.”

Miroku raised an elegant eyebrow. “LME represents models? That’s new to me.” Another once-over. “Our stats aren’t that different. Maybe I should have gone into modeling.”

Kise laughed as he put his phone away. “I’m getting too old for the industry. I’m here to get into something else.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. A baby like you is too old?” 

It was easy enough to forgive that. If Kise hadn’t seen the modeling industry from the inside, he wouldn’t have believed himself too. “You’re, what… high school? Sixteen?” When Miroku nodded, Kise said, “I started last year when I was thirteen, and I was considered too old for a few gigs. I get the shoots that want ‘high school models.’ Sorry to be blunt, but you” —Kise grinned to take the sting out—“you’re too old to be competing against me. I’ve got the baby face and the experience, and adult models are usually some sort of idol or talent first and model second.”

“Seriously, you’re not pulling my leg? Damn.” Miroku bent and opened his bag, pulling out a pair of drumsticks. “Good thing I can do this.” He got up, stretched, and then crouched down in front of the bench and started tapping a rhythm. It wasn’t complicated. 

“Got an extra pair of those?” Kise didn’t bother copying the stretch, but he did crouch like Miroku before the bench.

Miroku raised an eyebrow, stopped tapping, and reached into his bag, drawing out a second pair of drumsticks. “Here, my old spares. What do you want them for?” 

“Thanks.” Kise cocked his head, recalling the movement of Miroku’s hands and arms, and then started tapping the same rhythm Miroku just used. “Like this?” 

Miroku snorted. “Anyone can do that warm-up.” He got up, moving to the other side of the bench so he was facing Kise and had more room to tap. “Too bad my drum set’s backstage, but I guess this is okay for demonstration.” He started drumming, a faster, more military beat, ending with a drawn-out drumroll. 

Kise grinned. “You’re right, that sounds pretty cool.” He drummed the same beat, drumroll and all. “Neat.”

One of Miroku’s eyebrows twitched. “Give me those back.” He snatched the drumsticks out of Kise’s hands. “What’s your special skill, copying?” 

“How did you know?” Kise gave Miroku his best I’m-awesome smile. 

Miroku gaped at Kise for two seconds and then apparently gave up some inner struggle and groaned. “Shit, you seemed like a nice guy, but you’re professionally annoying. Which section are you going in for, Model-kun?” 

“Acting.” 

“An annoying guy like you aping others for a living. Yeah, that fits.” Miroku grinned, baring teeth. “Just so long as I’m not the guy you’re aping.”

Kise couldn’t help the answering grin that spread across his face. Before he could speak, a woman opened the door and said, “Gentlemen, if you would please form a line in order with Number One in front of me, we’ll be starting soon.”

It was amazing how quickly the roomful of boys (and some men) sorted themselves. Miroku was relatively close to the front (“See ya, I’m number eleven”) and Kise was almost at the end of the line. 

The woman said, “Now, if you would please follow me quietly through the halls…”

* * *

What was with that company president? Did he have a Wild West fetish or something? That had been the weirdest entrance ever. Who rode horses inside buildings, anyway? In fact, Kise had never met anyone like that, company president or not. The other candidates had also been surprised, but the guys at the judges’ table had just looked as bland as possible as the cowboy removed his hat and sat down at the judges’ table, so this was probably normal to them. What kind of a weird company was this? 

A company that had talents like Tsuruga Ren, that’s what. Kise grinned to himself. If nothing else, company meetings and parties wouldn’t be boring here with a guy like President Takarada Lory in charge.

The guy next to Kise (“#26, Nobu Jirou, I want to become a superstar!“) stepped back into line.

“Next!”

Kise stepped up. “#27, Kise Ryouta. I’m a model.” He smiled at the judges’ table.

One of President Takarada’s eyebrows moved up. The guy to his right (Sawara-san, Director of Talent) said, “I’m sorry, we don’t represent models.”

“I know,” Kise said. “I’m auditioning for the acting division. I’ve been an extra on a couple of movies, and Yashiro-san said it was okay for me to audition even if I didn’t have any acting experience.”

“Yashiro-san?” Sawara-san exchanged glances with President Takarada, and then looked at Kise again. “Are you referring to our agency’s Yashiro-san?”

“Tsuruga Ren’s manager!” Kise managed to not bounce on his heels, but it was a close thing. “We met at a movie shoot two weeks ago. My sister—my manager—went to university with him. He told us about today’s auditions.”

Sawara-san and the President looked at each other, and then began reading something (from this distance it looked to Kise like his application) in more detail. The guy at the far left (Matsushima-san, Director of Acting) said, “It looks like you have a good career as a model already. Why do you want to be an actor?”

Nee-san had predicted that question, and coached Kise on what to say. “I’d like to improve myself and do something else. Models have a limited working career, and I want to be prepared.”

President Takarada looked up, catching Kise’s eyes before speaking. “Tell me… what do you think of Tsuruga Ren?”

“He’s awesome,” Kise said, unable to keep the sparkles out of his voice. “He’s got great presence, he’s a really cool guy, and he has this seriously awesome aura when he’s acting! I want to learn everything I can from him!“

“Oh? Is that why you’re _really_ here?”

Oops. Oh well. When busted, turn on the charm and hope for the best. Kise beamed his best melt-the-camera smile. “Whatever my reasons, I’m definitely going to shoot for the top, sir!“ 

The President smiled. Sawara-san said, “Thank you, Kise-kun. Next!”

* * *

Kise waited for the last notes of Koda Kumi’s _Cutie Honey_ to fade away before he got up from the final pose. He bowed, and then peered through the bright lights shining in his eyes and waited for the judges’s reactions.

Sawara-san’s mouth was open. The President was clearly refraining from some sort of emotion. The guy next to Matsushima-san (Nakazawa-san, Director of Singing) was writing something down, so Kise couldn’t see his face. 

Matsushima-san cleared his throat. “Kise-kun, is _onnayaku_ your special skill?”

“What?” Kise’s jaw hung open and a drop of sweat rolled down his neck. “No, that’s just my best song at karaoke!”

Sawara-san glanced at Matsushima-san, and then at the President. “You chose a woman’s song. Why that, instead of a man?”

Thank god Nee-san had anticipated this question. “If I’d picked a guy’s song, I’d be compared with the original. My special skill is copying, and I’m also athletic, so we—I thought that doing a female singer’s song with dance moves would show off my best qualities.”

Nakazawa-san said, “Kise-kun has good points there. If he’d done a song by a male singer, the comparisons would have been inevitable, and”—he nodded at Kise—“please don’t mind my bluntness when I tell you that your obvious skill in copying aside, you would definitely not have compared favorably.” 

Kise grinned sheepishly, resisting the urge to scratch his head. “That’s why I’m not auditioning for the Singing section, sir.”

The President burst out laughing, and then buried his head in his arms, but his shoulders continued to shake. 

The other men at the table glanced at each other, sliding looks at the President. Sawara-san, who seemed to be in control of the audition pace, said, “Thank you, Kise-kun.” 

Was it good or bad that the President was laughing like that? They hadn’t told him to go home like they had with hapless #18, who’d picked basketball as his skill but missed six out of ten shots, so maybe Kise was still okay. With another glance at the shaking shoulders of the President, Kise walked backstage. 

Miroku was doubled over in the wing, holding his stomach. “Model-kun,” he gasped, “I like you. You’re okay.”

Kise frowned. “Why is everyone laughing? I wasn’t doing a comedy routine.” He pulled the pink wig off his head and pouted. Miroku started cracking up again, and Kise decided he would much rather be somewhere else. Now was a good time for that orange juice. Besides, he needed to get out of this costume. These shorts looked great on him, but were a little too tight for Kise’s comfort.

* * *

A minute later, the President was still chortling. “President,” Sawara-san said, raising an eyebrow at Nakamura and Matsushima. “Sir?”

“Don’t mind me,” the President said, lifting his head. “Oh boy. Number Twenty-Seven… Kise-kun, wasn’t it? Ah, that was a good laugh.“

Matsushima said, “What do you think, sir?”

The President’s eyes gleamed. “I think he’s interesting,” he said. “And he wants to chase Tsuruga Ren? Oh yes, _interesting_.”

Uh-oh. There was that look. Sawara wiped the sweat off his brow. He always got sweaty when the President was planning something. Still, Kise-kun had captured the President’s attention, and apparently that of Yashiro-kun as well. It would be interesting to see what the next round brought. “Mr. President, may we continue?”

“Please do,” said the President, settling back into his chair.

* * *

More than a few other candidates had come up and slapped Kise on the back (some on the butt) and complimented him on a great performance. He didn’t want to snap at people who meant well, but dammit, that was _not_ supposed to be female cosplay, that was supposed to be a rousing karaoke dance routine. 

Kise was glad when they announced that the next section was beginning. A few guys had already been sent home; the remaining candidates split into two groups. Miroku stayed in the waiting room with the Singing candidates (“Good luck, Model-kun!”) and Kise found himself sitting on a folding chair on the audition stage at the end of a line of about twelve, after #25 (“Honda Ichirou, I’m going to be Japan’s Number One Star!”)

A staff member got on stage holding a cellphone. “The next test is a reaction test. Through the phone, a partner will be talking to you. Please try to react individually to what you hear. Let’s begin with #1!” 

#1 (“Suehiro Takao, I’m confident LME will not regret taking me on!”) stood, took the phone, and listened to it. He began pacing, and then suddenly stopped. “What?” he said, and then dropped the phone and sank to the floor. “Nana-chan, no…”

“Next!”

#4 began sobbing after a few seconds of listening. #7 looked blank and just stood there, though Kise could see the man’s back stiffen. #8 shook his head and expressed disbelief. 

Oh, right, the reaction test. Nee-san had briefed Kise on what to expect. Kise watched the other guys closely. Grief, sadness, disbelief… someone’s died? He racked his brains, trying to recall when he’d last seen someone grieving. Next to Kise, Honda was shaking and clenching a fist. 

“Next!”

Kise stood, accepted the phone, and listened. 

“Hey, kid,” the older male voice on the line said. “Look, I’m sorry, your pet just ran into the road. I’m really sorry. I tried to stop, but it was too late, and… I’m really sorry. Here, take this, maybe you can get another pet? I’m really sorry.”

The face of Kise’s classmate, Takenori-kun, flashed into Kise’s mind. Last summer, Takenori-kun’s dog was hit by a car. The voice on the phone even kind of sounded like the driver. Kise bit his lip and took a deep breath, and then let it out shakily. “Thanks,” he said, and gulped. “Thanks, oji-san, for not letting me find him without knowing what happened.” He bit his lip again, took another deep breath, let it out slowly and shakily. “I’m sorry too.” Deep breath, shaky exhale, look up. Deep breath, look down at the broken body on the ground. Kise let out a sob, and then bit his lip hard and closed his eyes. 

That was about all Takenori-kun had done before their parents arrived. Kise didn’t have anyone to hand the phone to, so he hung up and looked for the staff member. Did the judges like that? He handed the phone back, then tried not to squint as he peered down at the judges. Matsushima-san, Nakamura-san, and Sawara-san were nodding. The President had a small smile on his face. 

“Kise-kun,” the President said, “Could you please move to the front of the line before #1?”

There were a few moments of confusion; apparently this wasn’t a regular part of the audition. Kise looked around and back at the President for confirmation. When the President nodded and made shoo-ing motions, Kise picked up the chair he’d been sitting on and walked to the front of the line, settling in before Suehiro-san. 

“One more reaction test, if you please, Sawara-kun?” said the President. “ _That_ one.”

Kise took in the confused look on the other judges’ faces as he accepted the phone. Well, the President was entitled to do anything or ask for anything. 

He put the phone to his ear. A female voice said, “I’ve known for a while now, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell you this before. It’s just…”

A confession? Oh boy, Kise had heard many of those lately. He prepared himself; this wouldn’t require copying anyone else.

The voice continued. “… I’m pregnant.”

Kise’s jaw dropped and he stiffened. _Oh, shit._ He looked wildly at the rest of the room—the other candidates, the judges, the President. _Oh, shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit._ He had nothing in his repertoire for this. _Oh, shit, oh shit, I thought this was a confession, I’ve never had sex before, I’m only fourteen, how do you expect me to react to a girl telling me she’s pregnant?_

The judges all grinned. This time, Matsushima-san was the one who started laughing. “Well done, Kise-kun,” he said, clapping. “Go on, hand it to the next candidate.”

In a daze, Kise did as he was told and then sat down heavily. He watched as Suehiro-san took the phone, gave Kise a startled glance, and then began looking shocked.

* * *

The next test had been a script-read test (school drama, the judges looked satisfied with Kise’s answers) and now they were back in the audition room. The Singing candidates filed out as the Acting candidates went back in, and Miroku had given Kise a thumbs-up when they passed each other. Kise sat on the bench. Well, he’d done his best, and he was still here. Maybe he’d done okay after all?

He pulled out his phone and was about to text Nee-san when the female staff member who had been leading the Singing candidates came back to the room. “Kise-kun?” she called.

“Yes?” Kise jumped up. Had he left something in the audition room?

“Would you follow me, please? Nakazawa-san asked for you to join the Singing audition as well.”

Kise blinked. Nakazawa-san had clearly noted Kise’s lack of singing talent. What was this for? He got up and followed her down the hall back to the audition room. She knocked on the door, opened it, and motioned Kise in. “Nakazawa-san, the candidate you asked for is here.”

As Kise walked back onto the stage, he heard an audible groan. “Yo,” he said, waving as he realized who it had been. 

“Oh fuck,” Miroku said, burying his face in his hands.

* * *

"You walked onto the stage looking like you belonged there, and it turns out you have no musical talent or training whatsoever. And to think I was afraid you'd kick butt in music!" Miroku smacked Kise on the shoulder, causing Kise to stagger. “You fail the sight-reading tests, you get the aural tests but your voice isn’t that great, and then you blow everyone away by copying their instrumentals immediately. What the fuck are you?” 

Kise dodged out of arm’s reach before Miroku could hit him again. “I told you, my skill is copying.”

“Yeah, well.” Miroku backed Kise into a corner, penning him in, and glared. “Explain it to me.”

Kise took a moment to appreciate that he was slightly taller than Miroku, but then realized that meant it was harder to duck out of the corner. Where was Nee-san to save him when he needed her? “What do you mean, explain? I see what you do, I copy it.”

“You…” Miroku narrowed his eyes. “Say that last sentence again.”

“I see what you do, I copy it.”

“You _see_ what I do…” The anger in Miroku’s eyes disappeared. “So you’re not copying the notes.”

Kise shook his head.

“If I blindfolded you, you wouldn’t be able to copy my drumming.”

“Probably not anything more difficult than your warmup this morning,” Kise said, after a moment’s thought.

“So… you’re like those people who learn guitar chords by watching tapes of concerts and mimicking the movements, only it doesn’t take you weeks or months.”

Kise wouldn’t have actually put it that way, since he’d never bothered, but he could have done it if he’d been interested, so he nodded.

“Huh.” Miroku straightened, dropping his arms to let Kise out of the corner. 

“There you are, Ryouta! The results are up, but I’m too short to see. Did you make it?”

Kise heaved an internal sigh of relief as Nee-san rounded the corner. She stopped, taking in the scene, glancing at Miroku and at Kise.

“Model-kun?” Miroku said, raising an eyebrow.

“Nee-san, this is Miroku. He’s a drummer, and he auditioned today. Miroku, this is my manager and older sister, Kise Suzuka.”

Miroku nodded at Nee-san, who nodded back. Nee-san glanced at Kise. “Is everything okay, Ryouta?”

Kise met Miroku’s eyes. “Everything’s okay,” Kise said, slinging an arm over Nee-san’s shoulders and guiding her towards the cluster of people gathered in front of the door.

“See you at orientation, Model-kun,” Miroku called out.

Even though there was a crush in front of the paper, Kise was just tall enough to make out the numbers he wanted to see. “#27,” he read, and Nee-san squeezed his hand. #11 had also made it. Kise looked back at Miroku, saluted, then turned and followed his sister out of the building.


	3. Gemini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kise takes a detour with a band.

An unfortunate combination of Golden Week fashion events and poorly-timed shoots conspired to delay Kise’s starting date at LME to late June. LME had hired Nee-san on a part-time basis to chaperone—ahem, manage—Kise, who was still underage at fifteen. Kise was grateful; he had been dreading the thought of being assigned to a manager who wasn’t Nee-san. Because of that, Nee-san had laid down the law, and Kise had gamely attempted to at least look like he was paying attention during Orientation. He’d looked for Tsuruga Ren before remembering that Orientation was for newbies, and then had to do his best not to look bored. 

Kise complimented himself on his acting skills as the gathering dispersed and then got up, stretching. Those chairs were cramped.

Nee-san had been nodding and talking to Matsushima-san and Nakazawa-san in a corner for a while. The only way Kise could currently tell the two of them apart was by remembering that Nakazawa-san, the head of the Singing department, was the one with the ponytail. What was it they were discussing with Nee-san? Maybe they were talking about the best way to arrange Kise’s schedule so he’d be doing things with Tsuruga? Curious, Kise wandered over. 

“Ah, Kise-kun,” Nakazawa-san said. “Come, we were just discussing you.” He drew Kise into the conversation circle between himself and Matsushima-san. 

Matsushima-san nodded at Kise. “As I was just telling your sister, you have a lot of raw potential when it comes to acting, but it’s also obvious you need some basic technical training. The way you are right now, the Acting department can’t use you for more than slots as an extra. If you’re serious about competing with Tsuruga Ren, you’ll have to learn as much as you can about the basics.”

“LME will be sponsoring you in the acting classes,” Nakazawa-san said. “In return, you’re going to join the Singing department and take singing lessons as well. We’re going to see if you can front a band.” 

Whatever Kise had been expecting from the conversation, that wasn’t it. “Front a band?” Did Tsuruga Ren have band experience? He’d have to check later.

“Lead vocals, to be precise. You’ve got that star quality a good front man needs. We’ve got a band that needs a singer. You’ll probably do well together.” 

“But you said I couldn’t sing,” Kise said, confused. 

“The singing can be trained; you picked it up quickly enough at the audition. What can’t be trained is charisma.” Nakazawa-san patted Kise on the back paternally. “I know we’ve put a lot on your plate, but do your best, Kise-kun. I’m expecting great things.”

* * *

That was how Kise found himself being ushered into a studio for his very first band meeting. Although the studio had looked large from the hallway, there were drums, guitars and basses, keyboards, stools, and lots of beanbags, so it felt a lot more cozy inside. Tsuruga Ren wasn’t there, but Miroku and three other guys were chatting, seated on beanbags in the middle of the floor; Kise mentally dubbed them Shaggy Brown Hair, Sandy Hair, and Brunette. Was Kise there to complete the hair spectrum? They already had a blond in the form of Miroku, though. Kise hoped he wasn’t going to be expected to dye his hair black. He pulled a beanbag up outside the circle behind Miroku, the only person he knew. “Yo,” he said.

Miroku turned. “Model-kun!” He raised an eyebrow. “What’s up? Taking a break from acting?”

“Actually,” Kise said, “I’m Gemini’s front man.” He shrugged and grinned. 

“You’re our vocalist?” Miroku’s other eyebrow shot up, and he gave the other guys a look. “Does LME really know what they’re doing?” 

Next to Miroku, Shaggy Brown Hair shrugged. “You know this guy?”

“Yeah, and he’s not a singer,” Miroku said, standing up. “Where’s that producer? Are we really going to debut like this?”

“It was your idea to audition for LME,” Sandy Hair said, giving Kise a close once-over. “Guess their idea of a front man is looks? Or maybe it’s because we’re all too handsome for the regular singers, so this kid here’s the best they’ve got.”

Kise gaped at the backhanded compliment, unable to think of anything to say. Shaggy Brown Hair snickered. “Miroku-san, your mini-me is way too young. Tall, though. Maybe we can make him up so he looks a little closer in age with us.”

“He’s not singing with us,” Miroku said, frowning at Kise. “Seriously, Model-kun, joke’s not funny.”

Kise eyed the group. He was about to say something when the door opened again and a young man (t-shirt, black vest, jeans with ripped knees, canvas boots, maybe early twenties) walked in confidently. Everyone else in the room turned to look at him.

The man waved. “I’m Ono. I’m your new front man.”

Shaggy Brown Hair snorted. “Join the line,” he said, pointing at Kise. “He says he’s our new front man too.”

“No one warned me we were going to be a male version of AKB48,” Sandy Hair said. He poked Brunette, who’d been quiet the entire time Kise had been in the room. “Shizuru, you’re going to have to sing and dance.”

Shizuru gave Sandy Hair a mournful look, and then looked at Kise and Ono for a couple of seconds before looking away again. 

“I’m not dancing,” said Miroku, who was now checking Ono out. “Though frankly, if LME’s going for looks, then Model-kun does have the advantage. Thank god for Autotune.”

Ono visibly bristled. “Wait until you hear me sing. I play the keyboard too.”

“Taken,” Sandy Hair said. “Sorry, but we don’t need a keyboard.”

“I’m fine on vocals,” Ono said, jaw tightening. “And you haven’t heard me play.”

“Watch it,” Shaggy Brown Hair said. “No role encroachment.” He eyed Kise, and then stuck out a hand. “Dasoku, guitarist.” Dasoku gestured towards Miroku, and then to the other two musicians. “We’re all from the same school, though technically Gloomy-face is our senpai, since he’s a year older.”

“Kise,” Kise said, shaking it. 

Ono stretched a hand out towards Dasoku. Dasoku ignored it, addressing Kise again. “So. Why does Miroku-san call you ‘Model-kun’?”

“Ah, you could have just asked me,” Sandy Hair said, yawning. He picked up the magazine next to him and tossed it at Dasoku. “Inside back cover.”

Dasoku flipped it open to a Tommy Hilfiger ad. Kise smiled up from the page, head tilted, hat lifted in salute. “Whoa,” Dasoku said. “That’s actually kind of cool.”

Shizuru glanced at the ad, then at Kise, recognition crossing his face. “He doesn’t look as young in the ad.”

“The magic of makeup,” Sandy Hair said, catching Kise’s eyes. “How long did it take?”

Kise thought back. “About an hour.” Hair, eyes, face, lips… “The hair took the longest.”

Dasoku snickered. “Miroku-san, prepare yourself. You’re going to have to go into makeup an hour before the rest of us. Maybe two, considering how long your hair is.” 

Miroku, now on the phone, ignored him. He nodded at something the other party said, and then hung up and said, “Sasaki-san’s on the way. We’re going to have an audition.”

* * *

While they waited for Sasaki-san, Kise eyed Ono, who was doing the same with him. Kise wasn’t sure what it was specifically, but Ono reminded him of an ex-model talent scout he’d met once. That man had made Kise’s skin crawl. So did Ono’s gaze. 

Ono smirked as he met Kise’s eyes. “So you’re a model,” he said, leering at Kise. “Aren’t you in the wrong room?”

“Nakazawa-san told me to be here,” Kise said. 

“Oh?” Sandy Hair said, not even pretending not to eavesdrop. He tilted his head. “I’m not sure what our illustrious director was thinking, but he’s supposed to have good sense. I’m ready to be surprised.”

“Yes, well, Sasaki-san told _me_ to be here,” Ono snapped, glaring at Sandy Hair. 

Dasoku snorted and turned a key on his guitar to tune it. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Ono. You’ll get your chance to prove it.” He strummed, and looked satisfied with what he heard.

Ono’s retort was cut off by a man in a white suit and coiffed hair who strode in briskly. The others got up from their seats, so Kise did too. He saw Ono jump up as well. “Sasaki-san,” Ono said.

“Ono-kun,” Sasaki-san said, nodding at him curtly before turning his attention to Kise. “So, you’re Nakazawa-san’s… experiment.”

First the backhanded compliment about his looks, and now this. Kise’s left eyebrow twitched, but he put on his best publicity smile and stuck out a hand for Sasaki-san to shake. He was getting really tired of the stereotyping, especially from a grown man who looked like he took more care of his appearance than Kise did. “Kise Ryouta. Nice to meet you, Sasaki-san.”

Sasaki-san took Kise’s hand and shook it perfunctorily, looking Kise over. “A bit young for the concept, but within the realm of possibility.” He snapped his fingers. “Boys, you know what to do.”

Miroku and his friends were already ready with their instruments. Kise watched as Miroku tapped four beats, and then the studio boomed with sound. Shizuru’s bass blended with Miroku’s drums, and Dasoku’s guitar skipped in between merrily. After a moment, Kise realized Sandy Hair’s electrosynth was doubling the guitar in some places and the bass in others, melding in and boosting them without standing out. 

Even an untrained amateur like Kise could tell they were good. He found himself tapping his foot lightly to the beat. Beside Kise, Ono looked excited. 

At a signal from Sasaki-san, the band stopped playing. “Here are the lyrics,” Sasaki-san said, handing Ono and Kise a sheet of paper each. “Just the four lines from the chorus. Kiyora-kun, some accompaniment, please. Miroku-kun, if you could demonstrate?” 

Kiyora turned out to be Sandy Hair; he nodded at Miroku, waited for an acknowledgment, and then started playing. 

Miroku caught Kise’s eye and sang simply, enunciating clearly and hitting the notes crisply. Was he making it easier for Kise to copy? Was that what they wanted him to do? Hit the notes dead center and speak clearly? Kise nodded, paying close attention. 

When they were done, Sasaki-san said, “Kise-kun, go first.”

Kise took a deep breath. Well, here went nothing. He focused, nodded, and Kiyora played. Kise repeated what Miroku had just done. 

The other three band members glanced at each other. Shizuru looked bored. Dasoku and Kiyora looked at Miroku, then back at Kise. Kiyora’s lips curled up and a contemplative look came into his eyes.

Sasaki-san’s expression didn’t change. “Ono-kun, your turn.”

Ono tilted his chin at Kiyora. “Start when you’re ready, I’ll jump in.”

Kiyora narrowed his eyes at Ono but said nothing, instead laying down the chord Ono would need. A beat, and then Kiyora was off, playing the chorus again. Ono came in on cue and belted the chorus, filling the room with his voice. He slurred notes and words skillfully, dipping on the low notes, sliding up to high notes dramatically, and then jumped and kicked in the air to end it. Kise hadn’t heard so much embellishment in a four-bar chorus before. 

When Ono ended, he smirked at Kise. “Try that, pretty boy.”

Sasaki-kun said, “Well, boys. What do you think?”

Kiyora glanced at Miroku, and then said, “Model-kun.”

Dasoku watched the interplay between Kiyora and Miroku. He nodded along with Kiyora. “Model-kun.”

Shizuru nodded, eyes on Kise.

Miroku met Kise’s eyes. “It’s unanimous.”

Ono’s jaw dropped. “You’re fucking kidding me. Pretty boy did the bare minimum. I’m _clearly_ more skilled. What’s wrong with your ears?”

Miroku gave Ono a bland look. “I demonstrated what we wanted. Model-kun followed directions, and you didn’t. In this band, the singer does what goes with the band, not what he thinks is best.”

Ono turned to Sasaki-san, outrage written across his face. “Sasaki-san, I can’t believe this. You heard it for yourself! I’m clearly better.”

Sasaki-san gave Kise an appraising look. “Kise-kun… is Ono-kun better?”

Kise met the other’s gaze. Something in Sasaki-san’s eyes made Kise’s hair stand on end. It felt like Sasaki-san was asking a different question than the words implied. Miroku spoke, saving Kise from having to reply to Sasaki-san. “Kiyora, let’s give Model-kun a chance to show Ono the door.”

Kiyora smirked, played the chord, and held it. Kise looked at Sasaki-san, then at Miroku. 

Miroku said, “What, can’t copy Ono?”

 _Oh._ Good thing he’d been paying attention. “If that’s what you want me to do,” Kise said, “I’m ready.” 

“Go for it,” Miroku said.

Kiyora played the chord, smoothly transitioning into the chorus. Kise took a breath, and then launched in just like Ono had.

* * *

After Ono had staggered out, Sasaki-san nodded at Kise before giving the rest of the band a quelling look. “Live with your choice,” he said, and then left. 

Kise sagged onto a beanbag. He wasn’t quite sure what had just happened there, but he’d apparently won his first casting call as a singer, though he had the sneaking suspicion it hadn’t been because he was better. Yeah, he’d copied Ono and freaked the other guy out, but Ono had talent and training Kise didn’t have, and if Kise could hear the difference between the two of them, the band and Sasaki-san certainly could. So, if it wasn’t about being better… what was it about?

Kiyora turned to Miroku, a contemplative look in his eyes. “Wonder if Ono’s blowing Sasaki?”

“The last thing I want is to imagine _either_ of them like that,” Miroku said with a shudder. “Anyway, Model-kun, you had better be serious at your voice lessons.”

Realizing he’d just been spoken to, Kise looked up to see the other four members watching him. “I thought you didn’t want me singing for you,” he said.

Miroku shrugged. “Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. I can work around your shortcomings.”

Normally, Kise would have protested that he didn’t have any shortcomings, but right now didn’t seem like the right time or place. Instead, he said, “Because I pick things up quickly?”

“It’s not about technique,” Miroku said, though the corner of his mouth lifted a little. “It’s what’s here”—he pointed at his chest where his heart was—“rather than here”—he pointed at his head. “Some of the most popular bands have guys who’re just screaming their lungs out with no finesse whatsoever. The front man is the poster boy, the one who draws them in. You’ll look better on our album covers than Ono will. Fans will buy our singles because you’re on the cover. They’ll keep buying them because _we’re_ playing.”

Dasoku snickered. “Promise me no one here is going to tell anyone else we picked a front man based on how he looks.”

Kiyora raised an eyebrow. “Don’t underestimate the importance of packaging.”

Shizuru walked up to Kise and patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll fit in with us,” he said. 

Miroku zipped his drumsticks into his bag. “Come on, guys. We need to get out of this studio. Time’s almost up, and the next group’s probably waiting outside.”

* * *

Miroku grabbed Kise’s arm as they walked down the hallway. “You guys go on ahead, I’ll catch up,” he said to Kiyora. “I need to talk to Model-kun.”

“Don’t be too long,” Dasoku said, already walking ahead.

Miroku waited for all three of them to turn the corner before he said, “Seriously. Learn to sing, fast. We don’t need an anchor dragging us down. I don’t care who or what you copy, but if you don’t shine, my ass is on the line, too. All our asses.“

Kise nodded. 

Miroku stopped as he was about to turn to follow his friends. “Ono,” he said. 

Kise turned to see Ono standing behind him. Ono’s face was flushed a darkening red. “You,” he said, pointing at Kise. “You ruined _everything_.”

“What did I do?” Kise said, glancing at Miroku, whose expression had shuttered. 

Ono took a step towards Kise, and their eyes met. Instinctively, Kise stepped back. Miroku moved up to stand next to him; Kise felt absurdly grateful for the support. 

Ono’s face flushed further, a scowl darkening his face. ”You’re not even an average singer, you no-talent pretty face.” he spat at Kise. “I can’t wait to see your band fail because of you.” 

“Oh?” Miroku’s voice was quiet, but sent chills down Kise’s spine. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Ono glared at Miroku, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. “Nothing,” he said, the color fading from his face.

“Glad you understand,” Miroku said. “We’re leaving, Model-kun. Start walking.”

Kise did as he was told, though he couldn’t help checking behind him to see if Ono was still there. Ono didn’t follow them, though. As Kise turned the corner, he noticed Ono sag against the wall and slump down towards the floor.

Miroku fell into step beside Kise. “Feeling sorry for him?”

“Kind of.” Kise looked at Miroku, resisting the urge to look back. Ono was out of sight now, anyway. “He has talent, doesn’t he?”

“Maybe. He’s got skills too, but he’s not the kind of guy I want to work with.” Miroku shrugged. “Don’t you worry about him. He’s certainly not thinking about your well-being.”

“Got it, Mirokucchi.”

Miroku didn’t miss a step. “If you ever call me that again, I’m kicking you out of the band.”

* * *

Upon checking Kise’s training schedule, Miroku had shrugged (“You’re better off spending the time working on your technique without us distracting you”) and then arranged practices for weekday evenings, overlapping neatly with Kise’s acting classes and voice lessons. While four of the five members of Gemini were meeting for their first song run-through in a practice studio in LME’s main building, Kise was being led through aural exercises as he stood beside a piano in a room somewhere on the third floor of the training center. The instructor (Asahi-sensei, who looked in his forties if you discounted the crow’s feet and the pallor of his finely-wrinkled skin) had given up on sheet music entirely after the first ten minutes, and now Kise was parroting melodic lines after him. 

“Not like that, use your chest!” Asahi-sensei stood up from the piano and demonstrated, pulling his shirt open. “Posture! Project!” He pointed to his chest, inhaling, exhaling. “See that? Drop the diaphragm to pull air into your lungs. Fill them!”

Kise pulled his body up, mirroring Asahi-sensei’s posture. He inhaled, then exhaled slowly, following Asahi-sensei’s lead. After three repetitions, Asahi-sensei nodded. 

“Good. Remember that posture, Kise-kun. You will record in it.”

“Even when I’m dancing?” Kise asked. 

“Keep these parts of your body”—Asahi-sensei gestured from head to navel—“in that alignment when you dance.” He shushed Kise as Kise was about to object. “You can work that out with your choreographer. Now, next song, repeat after me…”

* * *

“An unorthodox method of teaching, but apparently it seems to be working,” Asahi-sensei said at the end of the lesson as he re-buttoned his shirt. “A singer’s body is his instrument. Make sure you take care of yours. Here, your… notes.” He handed Kise an IC recorder. “Memorize them by next week, and we’ll work on expression then. I’ve been told you’re recording this single next month.“ Asahi-sensei leaned back against the piano, looking thoughtful. “I’ll see you next week.”

* * *

Miroku e-mailed Kise three days later. 

> `How’re the voice lessons going? Will you really be okay to record?`

Even if he wasn’t sure himself, there was no way Kise was admitting that to Miroku. 

> `Totally. Can’t wait to show you guys the new and improved me!`

> `I’m serious, Model-kun. We’ve upped our game. It would be really lame if the best band in the world had the worst singer. Autotune can only do so much.`

Kise looked up the word Autotune, and then deleted Miroku’s e-mail.

* * *

“… _where the rainbow ends and our world begins, I can’t find it again, you’ve locked the door, I need the key_ —”

“Emotion, Kise-kun,” Asahi-sensei cried, jumping up from the piano. “Technique is no good without emotion! Happy songs and bouncy songs are all well and good, but ballads are what sell dreams, albums, and most importantly, concert tickets. What were you thinking about just now?”

“Uh.” Kise cocked his head and thought. “Posture. Project. Diaphragm—”

Asahi-sensei groaned, sat heavily on the piano bench again, and slumped over the keys. 

“But… these lyrics are stupid,” Kise said, pointing to the words on the sheet. “Rainbows, hearts, love… what does any of that have to do with anything?”

“Have you never been in love?” Asahi-sensei asked. “Good-looking kid like you?”

Kise shrugged. “I’m fifteen. It doesn’t matter who the girls are, it’s a bit early for that kind of commitment.”

“Opinions on the suitability of romantic relationships at your age aside, even fifteen-year-olds yearn.” Asahi-sensei sat up again and stroked the piano keys before him before playing a chord softly. “Tell me, Kise-kun, why did you join LME?”

“To chase Tsuruga Re—“

The papers in Kise’s hand fluttered to the floor. He hadn’t thought about Tsuruga Ren in weeks. He recovered quickly and picked the pages up, glad they were numbered. “I want to work with Tsuruga Ren. Things… haven’t quite worked out that way. Yet.” 

“Why not?”

“My schedule is packed, I fall asleep every night the moment I’m in bed, I’m rushed from one place to another, I have singing homework, acting homework, school homework…” Kise trailed off. What was he doing here anyway? He’d never wanted to be a singer. Tsuruga Ren didn’t sing. “I’m stuck here, singing, while he’s out there doing cool things.”

“Can you work with him right now, the way you are at this moment?” Asahi-sensei asked. “Truthfully.”

As much as Kise would have liked to say otherwise, even he had an idea of the gulf between where he was and Tsuruga Ren. “No.” Kise looked helplessly at Asahi-sensei. “He has this _aura_. I got sucked into it. And… it’s frustrating, but if we were in the same room today, that aura would just sweep me up again.” He clenched the paper between his hands. 

“That,” Asahi-sensei said, “is the emotion I want.”

Kise blinked, interrupted mid-brood. Rainbows, hearts, love… He flushed. “I am _not_ in love with Tsuruga Ren.”

“Well, it’s not precisely ‘love’ that’s the emotion here,” Asahi-sensei said. “Love is complicated, and it’s many feelings rolled into one. What you are feeling isn’t the kind of love we talk about in love stories. The emotion I’m talking about right now is helplessness.“

“You can sing a love song without expressing love?” What did helplessness have to do with love?

“To be more precise, I’m telling you that it is impossible to sing a love song using ‘love’ as the emotion.” Asahi-sensei smiled, pointing at the song in Kise’s hands. “What does the singer want? Feel free to be literal.”

Frowning at the lyrics, Kise re-read the phrases. That was easy enough to answer. “He wants the piece of him that’s lost.”

“Good. Where is it?”

“With the other person.”

Asahi-sensei nodded. “Can the singer just get that piece back?”

Kise shook his head, peering down at the words. “Not without help… the other person has it and won’t give it back.”

Asahi-sensei beamed at Kise. “You want to get to where Tsuruga Ren is, but you can’t see him. I know where he is. Plead with me, and maybe I’ll let you know. Once more, from the top.”

“But…” Kise said, confused, “wouldn’t it be better just to ask nicely, or maybe do something you want in return?”

Asahi-sensei threw his head back and roared with laughter, gripping the side of the piano as his body shook.

Kise crossed his arms and pouted. “I don’t understand why people always laugh whenever I’m serious,” he said. 

Asahi-sensei groped for the glass of water on the side table. Kise glared as Asahi-sensei drank. “What a good question,” Asahi-sensei said when he was finally able to speak without choking. “You tell me, Kise-kun. Why do you think the other person won’t respond to a polite request, or a trade?”

Kise could feel his head starting to hurt. Most people responded quite well to Kise’s polite requests. Kise knew that a charming smile and winning manner helped him immensely in life, and even without the constant reminders from Nee-san, he’d practiced smiling and eye contact for longer than he’d been modeling. Politeness was what made the world go round…

Ono’s face, flushed red with anger, flashed into his mind. 

The shock of understanding lifted Kise’s spirits. “They hate me,” Kise said through a rush of adrenaline at getting the answer. “Jealousy, envy, something like that.”

“Excellent. If someone who hated you had something you wanted, and you couldn’t get it through polite requests or your usual superficial charm, how would you get that thing?”

“Superficial charm? People like me when I smile at them,” Kise protested.

“Clearly some people don’t,” Asahi-sensei said, raising an eyebrow. “Or you wouldn’t have gotten the answer to the previous question. I ask again: if charm and politeness fail, what’s left?”

Kise’s face fell. “If that’s the case, whatever it is they have, I don’t need it that much,” he muttered, shoulders slumping.

Asahi-sensei sighed and walked to the window, looking outside in silence. 

Kise did his best not to scuff his shoes as he shifted his weight. Standing at the piano was boring because he didn’t have to move or pose. What was Asahi-sensei thinking about? Kise had met a few models who had hated him, and the best way to deal with those guys was to watch your back, smile at them, and never put yourself in the position of having to rely on them at all. Even when you worked on shoots with someone who hated you, as long as you were professional—Nee-san had drilled that into him—then whatever happened was the other guy’s fault. But being professional didn’t involve any sort of begging, and besides, the producers and photographers were the ones asking for things there, so again, it wasn’t Kise’s responsibility to deal with that sort of thing… 

Asahi-sensei turned back, meeting Kise’s eyes. “Your manager is your sister, isn’t she?”

Kise nodded.

“If she were dying, and the only person who knows the cure hates you and wants her to die because it would hurt you? Would you rather let her die for the sake of your pride?” 

Kise paled and shook his head. 

Asahi-sensei nodded. “I think we’ve found something you can work with. From the top, Kise-kun. Save your sister. Beg me.”

* * *

When Kise arrived at the recording studio, the others were already inside the recording booth, playing. Without taking his eyes off the other band members on the other side of the glass, Sasaki-san crooked a finger at Kise. Kise went.

“You’re recording separately,” Sasaki-san said. “It’ll be easier to edit your tracks on their own.”

“You won’t need to,” Kise said. 

Sasaki-san did look away from the rest of the band at that. “Oh?” he said, studying Kise’s face and raising an eyebrow at Kise’s grin. “I look forward to it.”

The song finished, and the band members walked out for a break. The sound engineer said, “Vocals, ready.”

“Model-kun,” Dasoku said as Kise walked towards the booth. “Do your best, okay?”

“Yo,” Miroku said, tossing Kise a bottle of water (Mt Fuji again; Kise wondered if LME used the same vendor for the entire campus.)

“Don’t worry too much,” Kiyora said. “Autotune does wonders.”

Kise gritted his teeth and walked into the booth without answering. He unscrewed the water, took a small sip, and then put the bottle down out of reach. He adjusted the headphones—these were way too big; whose head was this size, Shizuru?—pulled the microphone down until it was three inches from his nose the way Asahi-sensei had instructed, and then took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and gave a thumbs up at the glass window.

The opening chords came through loud and clear. Miroku was right—the rest of Gemini had gotten better. Well, so had he. Kise thought about his sister, picturing her face, and sang.

* * *

He stayed where he was even as silence filled his headphones. Deep breaths. Come out of it. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and pulled the headphones off. The first thing he heard was thumping. He looked down at the headphones, puzzled. No, it wasn’t coming from there. 

The thumping changed to a rat-a-tat-tat, and Kise looked up at the window between recording studio and booth to see Dasoku grinning madly and tapping the top of his bottle against the glass. Miroku and Kiyora had stunned looks on their faces, and even Shizuru looked a little less gloomy than usual. The sound engineer leaned down and spoke into the mic on his console. “Perfect. Come on out, Kise-kun.”

Kise grabbed his bottle and went. Dasoku was the first one out of the engineer’s studio to greet him. “What, Model-kun, you were holding out on us,” he said, pouting. “Miroku-san was getting really worried.”

Miroku had an interesting expression on his face. He met Kise’s eyes, nodded approvingly, and then looked at Sasaki-san. “Satisfied?” Miroku asked.

Sasaki-san smiled. “I had my doubts, but I don't any more. Well done.”

“Autotune?” Kise asked, looking at Sasaki-san. When Sasaki-san shook his head, Kise grinned and met Dasoku’s palm for a high five.

* * *

Takarada Lory stretched lazily out on the chaise lounge he’d had moved in before his picture window. He was bored, but it was past Maria-chan’s bedtime, and there was no one to play with. As Takarada contemplated the pros and cons of calling up his favorite theater troupe to come by and entertain him, Sebastian walked in quietly and waited.

“Yes, Sebastian, what is it?”

“Nakazawa-san is here, President.”

“Oh?” Takarada rose, pulling his dressing gown closer as he walked towards the couches he usually used for company. “Well, don’t keep me waiting, send him in.”

Sebastian bowed and moved aside to reveal Nakazawa waiting behind him. As Sebastian left (doubtless to prepare some coffee), Nakazawa followed Takarada’s unspoken command and sat across from Takadara. He held out a CD. 

“Key of Gemini.” Takarada’s senses sharpened as he read the label. “Is this the one?” 

At Nakazawa’s nod, Takarada snapped his fingers. Sebastian was there with a CD player immediately. Takarada took a moment to wonder who was making coffee, and then handed the CD to Sebastian, who wordlessly placed it in the CD player and started it.

Takarada nodded as the music started, leaning back to listen. Promising young musicians, already playing at that level. LME had gotten lucky there.

Then the lead vocals started, and President Takarada Lory sat up straight. Slowly, a grin spread across his face. “You sent him to Asahi?”

Nakazawa nodded.

“That man deserves a raise,” Takarada said. “As a matter of fact, so do you. Remind me tomorrow at the office.”

* * *

The “Key of Gemini” PV would be the third one released, but the amount of computer-generated special effects it would need meant that it was the first one filmed. Two days later, they were back in the recording studio, all five of them recording together this time. “Musical Chairs” and “Make a Splash” were happy, bouncy, upbeat songs that were easy to sing. Gemini wrapped both singles in the same day. The “Musical Chairs” PV was a one-day filming in which every Gemini member played every other instrument. 

This hadn’t been the way Kise had planned on spending his summer vacation, but at least he’d hadn’t had to miss much school. Come to think of it, not having to miss school was a negative in Kise’s mind, but the others had voted for doing this over the summer vacation—Nee-san had voted for Kise without letting him have a say—and Kise didn’t care enough either way to rock the boat. Besides, the others were psyched about the fact that in the course of less than two weeks, Gemini had recorded three singles and finished filming on two. Sasaki-san looked supremely smug. 

They waited until August to film the PV for “Make a Splash”. Dasoku had cheered when Sasaki-san announced where they’d be filming it, and cheered again when a large plastic chest full of various men’s swim wear had been brought onto their bus. When they arrived, Sasaki-san went to oversee the unloading and set-up, Nee-san excused herself, and the band members of Gemini took turns changing in the curtained-off back of the bus. After a year of modeling, Kise was used to changing clothes and being mostly-naked in close quarters, but Shizuru in particular was flushed a little red when he shyly emerged from the ‘changing room’ in swim trunks.

“Aw, just show off your legs,” Kiyora said with a lewd wink, tossing Shizuru a tiny navy blue scrap of clothing that Kise had earlier identified as something that wasn’t quite a G string but definitely could be mistaken for one. Shizuru frowned at Kiyora, tossed the G-string back into the plastic chest, and hurried off the bus. Dasoku laughed, ducking in behind the curtains. He’d picked a bright red Speedo to go with the red highlights he’d recently added to his brown hair. 

Nee-san poked her head onto the bus and caught Kise’s attention. She threw a bottle at him. “Unless you’d like your sister to spread lotion on you?” she asked with a glint in her eye.

Kise hurriedly did the job himself. It wasn’t difficult when all he was wearing was a white Speedo. 

“And use these!” A filmy white shirt and a garish green sun visor followed the bottle. Kise grabbed at them quickly before they hit the floor of the bus. Before Kise could protest, Nee-san added, “Models with dark skin don’t get as much work.” 

“But I’m a singer now,” Kise said, gesturing to the other Gemini band members. 

She snorted. “You’re still modeling. Unless you want me to tell Mori-san you’re quitting completely?”

Kise could imagine the disappointed look on Mori-san’s face. He sighed and pulled the shirt on obediently.

* * *

Half an hour later, Kise and his band members were still chilling lazily in the sun on the larger beach at Kasai Rinkai while the crew continued to cordon off the set and haul equipment. It was nice and warm, but Kise was acutely aware of the sun’s rays beating down on him. He pulled the visor of his cap down a little more to shade his face, secretly glad Nee-san had insisted on sun protection, and then stared as a drum set was carried off the crew bus. “Miroku-san,” he said, pointing.

Miroku glanced over, then lazily waved an arm, dismissing Kise’s concern as he dropped his head back onto the sand. “Those are dumpster-ready. They got spruced up for the cameras, but they’ll sound like shit.” 

Guitars and basses were unloaded and piled next to the drums. 

Kiyora yawned loudly. He had gone back to the bus and grabbed a shirt for himself, too; next to the more built Miroku and Shizuru, Kiyora had looked underfed without the shirt. Right now he’d opened it wide to sun his belly. “Can’t bring good instruments here,” he said. “Even if you don’t get them wet, the salty air is bad for them.” 

That made sense—photographers had complained about beach shoots often enough in Kise’s hearing, too. 

Shizuru was shielding his eyes to look over at the set. “It looks like they’re about ready.”

Kise squinted to make out Sasaki-san and head cameraman Muraki-san look towards them. Sasaki-san pulled something out of his pocket and put it to his mouth. All five Gemini members winced as the shrill whistle cut through the air. 

“Does he think we’re big puppies?” Kiyora grumbled as they all got up, patting the sand off them. 

Dasoku pointed to Kise. “Model-kun’s kind of like a puppy. He’s always following Miroku-san around.”

Kise felt his face flush. Miroku rolled his eyes. “You’re a big puppy too. At least Model-kun doesn’t trail me around at school.”

“I bet he would if he went to our school,” Dasoku said, winking at Kise. 

Kise relaxed. They were just teasing. “Come on, guys… last one there is a rotten egg!” He set off, running across the beach as the others yelped and began to chase him.

* * *

During a break in filming, the band members stayed in the water, enjoying the soak. “We’re going to look like raisins,” Kiyora said, but he made no move for the shore.

Kise stretched as he floated on his back. The stretch felt so good, he kicked, and before he consciously realized it, he was doing the backstroke he’d picked up in swim club at grade school. After a few strokes, Kise twisted in the water and switched to the breaststroke so he could see where he was going. The other four members of Gemini were just standing around in the water. Kise grinned and began literally swimming circles around them.

As he was doing his second lap, Kiyora said, “Don’t you think he’s too comfortable in the water?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kise saw Dasoku glance at Kiyora. He sensed the danger before he understood it, and stopped swimming suddenly, pulling up just as Miroku burst out of the water, missing Kise by an inch. The two of them eyed each other, and then Miroku grinned, pushing a wave of water into Kise’s face. Dasoku jumped onto Kise’s back, and Kiyora ran his fingers down Kise’s sides. 

Kise wriggled, trying to shake Dasoku loose. “Fine, have it your way!” he laughed, taking a deep breath, and then submerging himself. 

In the water, he could feel Dasoku letting go and pushing off him. Kise circled, trying to remember which of the legs in front of him belonged to who. Bright red Speedo—that was Dasoku, so Miroku was either the black or the brown trunks. Better safe than sorry. Kise stuck a hand down the backs of both pairs and pulled down. In the struggle, he managed to surface with both pairs of swim trunks, and he waved them above his head triumphantly as Miroku and Kiyora both yelped and then dove at him. They managed to grab their swim trunks back, and Kise grinned at their contortions as they tried to put them on underwater.

Kise felt someone at his back and turned to see Shizuru with a smile on his face. “Sorry, Kise-kun,” Shizuru said, and then wrapped both arms around Kise. Kise turned, trying to wriggle out of Shizuru’s grip, and saw Dasoku, Kiyora, and Miroku, all approaching him with grins on their faces. 

_Oh shit._ “Ah, guys, we’re cool, right? Just horsing around?” Kise said, trying to raise his arms as much in surrender as in an attempt to get free. 

“Hold him,” Miroku said, and then they were on him.

* * *

Two weeks later, screencaps appeared of Kise holding swim trunks above his head with various captions of _“Victory!”_ Even more viral was an animated screencap of Kise, hoisted high, dripping water onto the heads of his band members as they threw him into the sea. The “Make a Splash” PV garnered a million views on Youtube, and pre-orders poured in for the single, which was set to be released the first week of October.

* * *

As he waited for Tsuruga in the lobby, Yashiro pulled on his anti-static gloves and then took his phone out to check for updates on entertainment news. A good manager didn’t get tunnel vision; Yashiro made a point of keeping an eye on Tsuruga Ren’s competition, both current and future. His eyes widened as he saw the Oricon weekly singles chart.

“Yashiro-san,” Tsuruga said, walking up.

“Tsuruga-kun!” Yashiro jumped up, waving his phone at Tsuruga. “Look, it’s amazing!”

Tsuruga looked bemused as Yashiro thrust the phone under his nose, backing off and trying to move the phone a little distance away. “What is?”

“They’re number one!” Yashiro said, waving the phone.

Tsuruga sighed, firmly removed the phone from Yashiro’s hand, and then peered at the screen. “‘Make A Splash,’ by Gemini,” he read, and then looked up at Yashiro quizzically. “How nice,” he said politely, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t you know who that is?” Yashiro said. “Gemini is an LME band!”

“Oh?” Tsuruga looked pleased. “Good for us.”

Yashiro shook his head. “No, no, no—I mean, yes, good for us, LME’s got some great talent—but that’s the group _he’s_ in. Kise-kun. You know, that model who played the hostage in the bank robbery.” He sighed at Tsuruga’s blank look. “My university _kouhai’s_ brother,” Yashiro said. “You can’t have forgotten Kise-san, you even asked me about her.”

“Ah,” Tsuruga said. “The athletic boy. He sings, too?”

Yashiro grinned. “Apparently. I’m really good at spotting talent! Maybe I should be a talent scout.”

“Are you tired of managing me?” Tsuruga asked, giving Yashiro a dazzling smile. “Perhaps I should ask for Kise-san to take over?”

“Now, now, Tsuruga-kun,” Yashiro said, “no need to get touchy.”

“But my manager is paying so much attention to someone else,” Tsuruga said, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m your manager, it’s my job to make sure your competition doesn’t get too close!”

“Didn’t you recruit this particular ‘competitor’, Yashiro-san?”

Yashiro sighed. Trust Tsuruga to remember something like that, and yet not know who had their eyes set on his back without extreme prompting. “Time to go, we’re going to be late,” Yashiro said, hurrying Tsuruga through the lobby.


	4. Oliver!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gemini disbands and Kise moves on. In which Kise meets Aomine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday, so here, have fic! ^_^

With the exception of a congratulatory e-mail from Sasaki-san the first week of each month, nothing happened after Gemini finished filming their PVs. Kise still went to school every day (unless he had shoots scheduled), went to acting lessons and voice lessons, and then went home and did as little homework as he could get away with. 

In the beginning, he went to band practice once a week on Tuesdays, the only day he didn’t have lessons scheduled, but after three weeks in a row of hearing “We’re still working on the chords” and “Don’t worry, we’ll let you have the songs as soon as they’re done, but right now something’s not right with the sound” and “You pick up quickly, it’ll be okay” he skipped practice on the fourth week to see what would happen. No one called to ask him if he was going to practice or why he missed it. 

Kise called Miroku the third time he skipped practice. “Hey… is it okay if I just stay home until you’re ready for me?”

“It’s fine,” Miroku said. “Enjoy the break from practice, get some studying done, that sort of thing. It’s been kind of rough here; we’re studying for exams on top of everything else, so the music’s not really flowing.”

“Oh. Yeah, that does sound rough.” Kise swallowed the disappointment out of his voice. “Guess I should leave you guys to it. Say hi for me!”

“Sure,” Miroku said. A rustle, and then Kise could hear Miroku’s voice, muffled. “Model-kun says hi and wishes us good luck!” (“Hi back!” “Tell him we’re sorry!” “Yeah.”) Another rustle, and Miroku’s voice came back on the line. “Did you catch that?”

“Yeah,” Kise said. He forced his brightest smile; even if Miroku couldn’t see it, smiles had a way of transmitting over the phone. His mother had taught him that one. “Good luck, guys. Call me when you’re ready for me!”

“Will do.” Miroku disconnected the call.

Kise glanced at his own schoolwork on the desk and sighed. His parents had insisted he finish middle school and high school and at least not repeat any grades, and things were getting kind of borderline because of all the days Kise had had to skip school for shoots, recording, and filming this year. Nee-san had actually told Kise she wouldn’t be scheduling more than two shoots a week unless Kise managed to stay out of the bottom third of the rankings. (“It keeps your rates up too! Being exclusive is a good thing, kiddo.”)

He picked up his pencil and stared blankly at his worksheet. The window was shut, but he could hear the wind whispering in his ears. He pulled out his phone, looking at the e-mails and texts that had accumulated over the last couple of months from girls he couldn’t even remember, and began replying to them until all he could hear was the constant chime of incoming messages.

* * *

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, the number of confessions he’d gotten had tripled. Girls Kise had never seen before were waiting around every corner, eyeing him from afar. The staring, Kise was used to; people had always stared at him first because he was tall and because he looked like a natural blond (the wonders of expensive stylists), and then it had been because he was a model and people started recognizing his face in magazines. Ever since all three of Gemini’s singles had debuted at the top of the charts, however, girls had started mobbing Kise outside of his classroom and following him around blatantly. 

_I’m busy all the time but I never get to do anything interesting. Filming and recording was fun, but that was over a long time ago. Every single record we put out is a chart-topper anyway. It’s great for my career and everyone wants to book me for shoots now, but it’s so been there, done that. Isn’t music supposed to be about talent and skill? What was the point of joining LME again? Am I ever going to get some acting work at all? Will it be like this, practice without the band, recording in one day, and then more endless waiting?_

_Would Nee-san be mad if I quit? Should I quit even if she gets mad? Would she mind a lot if I went back to just modeling?_

The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Like every other day lately, as soon as classes were over, girls began appearing outside Kise’s classroom from all over the school. Out of the corner of his eye, Kise could see some of his male classmates disgustedly pushing through the throng. Kise took a deep breath. Even if he was thinking of quitting, for right now he was still a chart-topping singer, and those girls were his fans. He checked to make sure his autograph pen was in easy reach, shouldered his bag, and stood, putting on his brightest, friendliest smile.

* * *

That night, Kise called Miroku. Miroku subscribed to one of those services that played music instead of a ringing tone, and the service had added Gemini’s singles recently. Kise had always found it kind of weird listening to his own voice while the phone rang, and tonight it felt even weirder. 

“Yo, Model-kun,” Miroku said when he picked up. “S’up?”

“Can we talk sometime? I’m thinking about leaving Gemini.”

* * *

Miroku was waiting for Kise outside the school gates the next afternoon, surrounded by girls in Teikou’s uniform, signing autographs. Miroku’s uniform was black and red, but Kise didn’t recognize it. It looked good on Miroku, though. Kise felt both reassured that he wasn’t the only person with this problem and strangely jealous that his schoolmates were swarming his fellow bandmate in larger numbers than had been waiting for Kise outside his classroom. Was it the uniform? Maybe the new face? 

Kise slowed down his pace as Miroku disengaged himself with a last smile and wave at the girls, waiting for Miroku to fall into step beside him. “Hey stranger,” Kise said, grinning at Miroku.

“Hey stranger, yourself,” Miroku said. “Come on, let’s find a coffeehouse somewhere else, anything around your school’s too familiar with you and me.”

“We’re the hottest band in Japan right now,” Kise pointed out. “Everyone’s familiar with us.”

Miroku put on a black baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses, then handed Kise a bag. “Wear these,” he said. Kise looked inside the bag to see another black baseball cap and sunglasses to match. They really weren't Kise's preferred style of fashion, but he pulled them on anyway on as he followed Miroku to the train station.

* * *

The train had been full of posters advertising the Key of Gemini single, and Kise was glad Miroku had had the foresight to have them both disguise themselves somewhat. Even so, it was an uncomfortable ride as they stood almost exactly next to a poster of Kise’s face. “You’re everywhere,” Miroku had muttered quietly, poking Kise in the ribs when they boarded the train. 

The doors opened at Shibuya and people streamed out of the train. Kise squeezed out behind Miroku, but the platform was too crowded. Someone slipped in front of Kise and collided with him. Kise looked down into Ono’s face. They stopped short and stared at each other.

A strange expression crossed Ono’s face. “Kise? Kise Ryouta?” he said loudly.

Kise started. “Not here,” he hissed, a finger to his lips. Hadn’t Ono noticed that all of Shibuya was a billboard plastered with Kise’s face in every inch of space available right now?

Ono began to grin, and even through the shades, Kise could see the glint in his eyes. “Oh my god,” Ono shouted, pointing at Kise. “Kise Ryouta from Gemini! He’s right here!” 

Heads turned, and Kise froze as what felt like twenty thousand pairs of eyes turned on him. _Busted._ “Hi,” he said, giving his best smile. “Thanks for all the support!” Kise could see Miroku less than two meters away, but in the after-school crowd, that was like saying Miroku was on the other side of Tokyo. Miroku had turned when Ono started shouting, but all Kise could make out was Miroku’s jaw, dropping. 

A large group of girls coming up the stairs suddenly paused. The foremost girl pointed at Kise and squealed. “It’s _him_ , it’s _really him!_ ” 

“Kise-kun!”

“Ryouta-sama!”

“Ki-chan!”

The girls ran up the stairs, and Kise backed up instinctively as they surrounded him, arms reaching to touch his cardigan, his bag, his shirt, his hair, his skin, his neck, his lips—Kise tried to duck, jerking back, he was used to invasions of his personal space, but touching his lips was going too far!—and then he felt a push, and he teetered, suspended on the edge of the platform.

Time slowed—

—Kise flailed, trying to rebalance himself, but he was too far out, the momentum from the push was still carrying him backwards, his schoolbag was making it worse—

—a platform attendant was running towards him, whistle blowing, arms reaching out to Kise— 

—Miroku was pushing through the crowd, mouth open, shouting something—

—Ono—where was Ono?—right there, next to Kise, a smile on his face, hands reaching back into his pockets, moving away—

—was there a train?—No, not on this track, the train had pulled out, but it would really suck if he fell on the tracks anyway, it was kind of a long drop—

—someone grabbed his arm and yanked.

Kise landed on his rear on the platform, breathless, as the zipper on his bag burst open, spilling his textbooks across the platform, and time rushed back to its normal flow. 

The girls were frozen in shock, mouths agape as Kise took a deep breath and tried not to think about what had just happened. They backed off slowly, looking at each other, and then began babbling apologies and accusing each other. 

Kise waved the apologies off—he’d seen Ono, he knew he had—and turned to whoever had grabbed him and pulled him back. “Hey, thanks, thanks a _lot_ ,” he said. “You really saved me back there.”

Kise’s saviour turned out to be a guy about Kise’s age, with dark skin and a shock of dark blue hair, also wearing a Teikou cardigan. The other kid shrugged, reaching a hand out to Kise so that Kise could get back on his feet with minimal additional damage to his now-quite-smudged pants. “Don’t mention it,” the guy said, hefting his bag over his shoulder, and then seemed to realize something. “Ah, fuck.” 

“What’s up?” 

“My basketball,” the guy said. 

If there had been a basketball around, it was nowhere to be seen now. “Dude, I’ll buy you a new one. Two? It’s the least I can do, you just saved my life,” Kise said, grinning at the other. “What’s your name? You go to Teikou too, don’t you?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” The other guy scowled darkly at nothing in particular. “Don’t worry about the ball. It was getting old and worn anyway.” Before Kise could say anything, the other guy had turned and made his way through the crowd easily. The guy paused at the top of the stairs. “Be more careful,” he said, grinning at Kise over his shoulder and giving him a friendly backwards wave. 

Kise would have followed, but the platform attendant and Miroku were here now, the former apologizing profusely, arms full of Kise’s textbooks, asking if Kise was okay, the latter looking as pale and shaky as Kise felt.

* * *

It was a while before they could leave the train station, and when they did, neither of them was in the mood for coffee. They found a Denny’s; Miroku flirted with the girl at the counter and asked for a corner booth if at all possible, out of sight. Kise ordered French onion soup and a salad, while Miroku got a set plate. They sat in silence even after the waitress had left them alone, just staring blankly at each other. 

Finally, Miroku shook his head and spoke. “That was unreal. The dangers of fans, huh?”

“It wasn’t the fans,” Kise said. He met Miroku’s eyes. 

“Ono?” Miroku looked as if he’d been struck by thunder. “That bastard,” he said. “What do you want to do about it?”

Kise shrugged, slumping in the booth. “I’d like to forget it, really.”

“He tries to kill you and you don’t even report it?” Miroku frowned. ”Isn’t that dangerous?”

Kise laughed hollowly. “It’s not like we have proof,” he said. “It could have been a real accident. Even I didn’t see him push me. Besides, we have other things to talk about.”

Miroku shook his head. “Now’s probably a bad time,” he said.

“It’s not like I’m going to change my mind,” Kise said. “About Gemini, at least. I’m not sure about the whole idol talent thing yet. I need to talk to Nee-san.”

“Your sister’s going to tell you not to leave the band,” Miroku said. “We’re good together. Three Oricon number one singles in a row! You’re just bored because we aren’t recording right now, but give us a few more weeks to polish the pieces we’ve got and we’ll be back in the studio soon.”

“You four are having fun,” Kise said, wishing for a window so he could look somewhere else except Miroku, earnest and open. “But it’s not working out for me. I’m the weak link anyway; now that Sasaki-san trusts your judgment, you should recruit a real singer.”

Miroku winced. “You noticed.”

“What do you mean, _I_ noticed? Did anyone _not_ notice?” 

The food arrived, and for a few minutes neither of them spoke. Kise felt more human after the smell of food and a few spoonfuls of soup. “Ah,” he sighed, feeling more of the tension fade. Miroku continued to chew; it looked like his steak was a little tougher than Kise would have liked. Kise sipped at his soup again. “What kind of songs are you guys working on right now?” he asked carefully, stirring the onions at the bottom of his cup.

Miroku chewed for a few more seconds and then swallowed. “They’re interesting. Darker, edgier…” He trailed off. “What’s that look?”

“You didn’t correct me,” Kise said. “When I said ‘you guys’.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Miroku frowned. “The question was what songs we were working on.”

Kise shrugged, taking a different tack. “Do you know how many practices I’ve missed?”

Miroku shrugged too. “Four? Like I said, it’s no big deal. We’ll tell you when we’ve got something for you to sing.”

“I haven’t been to a single practice since the end of October,” Kise said. “If we’d had practice tonight, this would have been number ten. No one noticed until I called and asked for permission that day. Or did you?”

Miroku blinked at Kise again. He put his fork and knife down and leaned his head back against the booth, and then let out a deep sigh. “Fuck.”

Kise looked away, stretching his legs out under the table, careful not to bump into Miroku. He’d known all along Gemini had accepted his company but hadn’t fully taken him in, but it still kind of hurt to see confirmation of it. Maybe they should have talked two months ago, when they’d all been riding high and expansively generous on the wave of success, and not when that euphoria had worn off and Kise had already made up his mind to leave. Singing might still have ended up being boring, but Kise could have tolerated boring with these guys if they’d all been in it together. 

Oh well. It was kind of late for that now. “It’s okay,” Kise said. This really wasn’t very different from telling a girl he couldn’t reciprocate her feelings, was it? “You’ll find someone else. Someone who can really sing, and someone you guys can really get behind. We both knew I was just playing and I was going to leave sooner or later.”

Miroku didn’t look away from the ceiling, but his shoulders slumped fractionally more. “Yeah, but we should’ve made more of an effort. Sorry, Model-kun. I guess we really failed you.”

“It’s okay.” Kise took another sip of his soup. “You guys did your best.”

Miroku did look back down at Kise at that. His eyebrow twitched. “Somehow, coming from you, that really stings.”

“Ow!” Kise pulled his legs back and nursed his shin where Miroku had kicked him with his boot. “Don’t bruise the model; how am I going to do swimsuit shoots?”

“It’s December,” Miroku said.

“They don’t shoot those in the summer!”

“So wear those long swim tights instead,” Miroku said, smirking. “The whole country’s seen you in a Speedo now, anyway. Putting you in another one would be weird.“

“You don’t get it,” Kise wailed. “The whole point is to remind everyone that I’m that guy in the white Speedo. It sells better that way!”

“Then have them make up your leg! Put some foundation or concealer or something on it!” 

Their eyes met, and then they were howling with laughter. Kise didn’t even think that was funny, but he laughed until his sides hurt anyway. Then they had to hurry up and eat and pay because the loud laughter had attracted attention, girls were starting to sidle up to them, and Kise forgot all about Ono and the dark kid with the blue hair.

* * *

Takarada Lory frowned. “Where did we go wrong?” he asked the three other people seated at the conference table.

“If you’ll excuse me, Mr President, no one has done anything wrong at all,” Kise Suzuka said, bowing even though she was sitting in a chair. (Takarada never failed to find that chair-bow thing women did amusing.) “LME has been incredibly supportive of my brother, and so has Gemini and Sasaki-san! We deeply appreciate all the help and support, and the fantastic push to my brother’s career from Gemini’s work. If anything, it’s my brother who’s to blame for not realizing what he has, and we know new talent has no right to expect anything, but we’re hoping that LME will understand anyway.”

Nakazawa shook his head, ponytail swishing against the back of his coat. “It’s a real pity, but I suppose debuting at the top of the charts and staying there isn’t very interesting to a kid who didn’t even want to audition for the Singing department,” he said. He smiled at Kise Suzuka. “No harm done, Kise-san, even if it is a loss for me.”

“Still…” Matsushima frowned. “On the one hand, Kise-kun isn’t quite ready to debut yet. On the other hand, it would be a real waste to lose him. I suppose we could start sending him to auditions and see what comes of that, but debuting a new actor in that way is a hit and miss endeavor even with the best actors…”

“How about this, then?” Takarada smirked, stood with a flourish and reached out his hand. Sebastian—faithful Sebastian who never failed to anticipate his every need—placed something in Takarada’s hand and backed away discreetly again. 

“A script?” Matsushima leaned forward. “Is LME underwriting movies now?”

“A musical! Maeda-kun’s been asking me to do something to support his campaign. _Oliver!_ has never been done in Japan on a large scale before. It’ll be perfect for our first LME charity premiere!” Takarada sparkled at the others. “Orphans! Labor issues! Poverty! Ah, he’ll be happy about this, and finally I’ll get some peace!”

Kise Suzuka blinked. “Maeda-kun?”

Nakazawa leaned towards her. “Maeda Kuninori, Minister of Health, Labour, and Welfare.”

Her jaw dropped. “The President uses -kun for _him_?”

Nakazawa shrugged. “The President was his senpai in college.”

Takarada cleared his throat. “If we could come back to me, please? Kise-san, would you make sure Kise-kun auditions? Let’s see how far he’s gotten.” 

She nodded eagerly. Takarada grinned. Oh, this was going to be splendid. Young up-and-comings from his agency, promoting LME, promoting themselves, all for a good cause and tax-deductible to boot! Takarada was looking forward to this already.

* * *

In the end, the announcement that Gemini was dissolving was folded into a large January press conference with updates about LME Productions and their various projects. There had been questions (“Why are you retiring?” “There’s a rumor that the band members don’t get along, can you confirm that?” “What’s happening next?”) and answers, skillfully handled by Sasaki-san (“Kise-kun is choosing to focus on his first love, acting, and as he is also a full-time student and model, he has to prioritize different aspects of his career.” “Of course not; their bond is as strong as it has ever been.” “Kise-kun will pursue his acting interests, and the band will find a replacement vocalist. Anything beyond that is matter for a future press release.”)

Several reporters had insisted on Kise speaking. When Sasaki-san finally relented (with a warning glance at Kise,) the first reporter bluntly asked, “Will you be pursuing a solo singing career in the future?”

Kise grinned at the reporter. “Thank you for the compliment, but I really want to do my best at acting. However, if I ever _do_ come back to singing,” he said, glancing sideways at Miroku, Kiyora, Dasoku, and Shizuru, “I’d like to do it again with these guys.”

Miroku’s mouth twitched. Kiyora raised an eyebrow. Dasoku gave Kise a thumbs-up. Shizuru just gave Kise an approving glance. 

“We heard there was an incident on a train platform in Shibuya,” a second reporter said. “Was it a fan? Is that why you’re retiring?”

Miroku and Kise had told Sasaki-san the entire story after a tabloid had published a picture of Kise sitting on the ground on the edge of the train platform; Kise had been coached on what to say. “That was just an accident and has nothing to do with my decision. Shibuya’s platforms are pretty crowded! Hopefully the train companies will install more platform gates a little more quickly so these incidents can be avoided in the future.”

“Kise-kun,” someone said, “is that _really_ you singing on the records?”

The room fell silent. Heads swiveled. Some looked at Kise. Some looked at the reporter who’d spoken (young man, mid-twenties, generic suit, wire-rimmed glasses.) Sasaki-san looked as if he’d swallowed a particularly nasty bug. 

Kise blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Ignore any vocal processing and all that jazz sound engineers, do,” the reporter said. “The question is, is that really Kise-kun singing on the records?”

Dasoku jumped up with a scowl. “Of course it is! We were there in the studio!”

“You’ll have to excuse me if I say that doesn’t act as proof,” the reporter said blandly. He adjusted his glasses and looked at his notes. “Kise-kun is a model with no musical experience on his resume. Is that why he’s retiring? Because he can’t sing, and it would be better to retire before he’s found out?”

“Are you accusing me—no, are you accusing all of us here of being liars?” Kise felt a grin spreading across his face. “I’m not mature enough to let that slide. Sasaki-san, may I just do the chorus?”

Sasaki-san nodded, the scowl on his face mirroring Miroku’s (and the rest of the band’s.) “Show them.”

“I’m not warmed up, but for just the chorus, it should be okay, right?” Kise took a sip of water and then stood. _Posture. Project. Diaphragm._ He glanced at his sister, in the corner of the room, and then closed his eyes and took a breath before launching into the chorus of “Key of Gemini”. 

When he was done, he gave the room his best smile. Shutters fired and lights flashed; most of the reporters either cheered or clapped. Kise asked, “Is that okay? I could do more, but I want you to buy our records, and besides, it’s not the same without these guys’ music.”

There was a general wave of chuckles and nodding.

Miroku leaned in closer to the nearest microphone. “Kise-kun is like a little brother to all of us,” he said. “We’ll miss him, but we fully support what he’s chosen to do, and we know we have his whole-hearted support as well. Please don’t forget about any of us! We’ll be back, and”—he winked at the reporter—“as much as we love Kise-kun, we’re going to get a vocalist even better than him.”

“Miroku-san, I’m right here, you know.” Kise pouted. “Couldn’t you have at least saved that sort of thing for _after_ you find a new vocalist?” 

Amidst the laughter, Sasaki-san stood. “That’s enough for us for today. There’s more to this press conference after us, including President Takarada’s announcement of LME’s effort to support Minister Maeda’s current campaign, so please excuse us.” He ushered them off the stage as drums began to roll. President Takarada was entering from a different area, so Kise wasn’t able to get a glance of what the President was up to today as they were bustled off into the back. 

“The nerve of that reporter! Way to show him.” Dasoku came up to Kise and offered a hand. Kise shook it, and then Dasoku grabbed Kise and pulled him in for a hug. “Take care, Model-kun,” he said, squeezing Kise. 

Kiyora sighed. “It’s going to be hard replacing you,” he said, shaking Kise’s hand after Dasoku released him. 

Shizuru patted Kise on the shoulder. “You did great. It was good working with you.”

Miroku was the last one. “I’ll call you when we find another singer. In the meantime, since you’re leaving the best band in the country, make sure you kick Tsuruga’s butt and do what you came to LME to do.”

* * *

After withdrawing from Gemini, Kise no longer had voice lessons, but he still had Asahi-sensei’s number. Two days before the audition for _Oliver!_ , Kise called Asahi-sensei as soon as the last bell of the school day rang, hoping Asahi-sensei hadn’t filled the slot with a student.

After what felt like forever, Kise heard the click of connection. “Asahi.”

Outside the classroom, twice the number of girls were waiting—news had spread of Kise’s retirement, and now there were as many curious onlookers as there were fans, but Kise first had to make sure Asahi-sensei would help him. “Asahi-sensei, I’m sorry, I know I’m not your student any more, but I need your help!” 

“Kise-kun?” There was a moment of silence on the line, and then Asahi-sensei sighed. “It’s about that musical, isn’t it.” 

Kise nodded, and then remembered Asahi-sensei couldn’t see him. “Yes sir.”

Another long sigh. “I have a class in an hour. Be here before then and you may have a few minutes.”

“ _Thank you_ , sensei!” Kise said. He dazzled a smile at his waiting fans. “I’m so sorry, girls, I have to run today, please, can we do this tomorrow?”

Being athletic came in handy when squeezing through a crowd of reluctant fans and running for the train.

* * *

On the day of the audition, Kise found himself being ushered into one of the conference rooms instead of the stage he’d been expecting. The windows were somewhat shaded, though plenty of the mid-day sun still filtered in. The leather sofas inside were arranged in a semi-circle, and where a coffee table normally would be, the floor was clear. A quick glance around the room located the coffee table pushed up against a wall in the corner. Other than the furniture, though, the room was empty; Kise was the first one there. 

He walked over to the window, pushing the shade aside slightly. Sunlight flooded in, dazzling his eyes. “Ow,” he said, squinting as he tried to peer through the glass. He heard the door open and turned to see who had come in, but the contrast between blinding sunlight and the semi-dark room was too much for his eyes. He dropped the shade, letting it fall back to the glass, and rubbed his eyes, waiting for vision to return to him. He heard a chuckle from whoever had just entered the room. 

Finally, Kise was able to make out the other man in the room. Young, probably mid-twenties if not earlier, wearing a sharp, fashionable suit. Kise felt slightly underdressed in his school cardigan. “Hi,” Kise said, smiling at the other. “I’m sorry for the late greeting, but I couldn’t see you earlier. Blinded by the sun.”

“That’s all right.” The man smiled. “I’m Shingai, and I’ll be directing the play. Are you Kise-kun?”

“That’s me!” Kise beamed. “Am I that famous already?”

Director Shingai chuckled. “Something like that. I watched the press conference. Are you still modeling?”

Kise nodded. “Not as much as I used to, and acting is definitely my number one priority, but I do the occasional shoot when I have the time.”

The door opened, and Ono walked in. 

Kise stiffened, remembering the last time he’d run into Ono. Then he frowned. The tanned guy from his school, the one with blue hair, the one who’d saved him from falling on to the tracks—how could Kise have forgotten? That had been _days_ ago! He mentally kicked himself, pulling out his phone to text his sister and ask her to pick two basketballs up.

Ono walked up to the director unhesitatingly. “Director Shingai, what a pleasure to meet you. May I introduce myself? I’m Ono Makoto.”

“Nice to meet you too, Ono-kun,” Director Shingai said. “Why don’t you take a seat next to Kise-kun while we wait?”

Kise sent the message and looked back up to see Ono glaring at him. Their eyes met. Something that looked remarkably like fear flashed into Ono’s eyes, but then it was gone again. “Kise-kun,” Ono said, politely. “Been to Shibuya lately?”

“Not since that last time,” Kise said. “Too many… interesting memories.”

They held each other’s gaze for a few more moments. Ono was the first to look away, and he sat down on the sofa opposite from Kise, as far as was possible. 

Director Shingai was looking at Kise and Ono with an expression of interest. He smoothed his expression as the door opened again, and then smiled warmly. “Hiou-kun,” he said, standing up. 

“Director Shingai,” said Hiou-kun, who turned out to be a young boy in a grade school uniform. Hiou-kun shook Director Shingai’s hand gravely. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Wonderful to see you here,” Director Shingai said. “Now, we only need—”

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, but I hope I’m still on time,” said a voice from the doorway. 

“—and there he is,” Director Shingai said as he shook hands with Tsuruga. 

Kise jumped up. “Tsuruga-san,” he said, grinning. 

Tsuruga turned to Kise. A flash of recognition crossed his face. “Kise-kun,” he said with a smile.

Kise’s grin couldn’t get any wider. “You remember me!”

“Yashiro-san has been following your career very closely.” Tsuruga’s smile exuded playfulness. “If I didn’t know your manager was your sister, I’d suspect you of trying to steal him away from me.” Tsuruga chuckled at Kise’s confused look, and shook his head. “Never mind.”

“I’m happy to know you’re all friends,” Director Shingai said. “I hope you’ll be that way after the casting, because not all of you will be principals.”

Kise glanced at Tsuruga, who was now settling himself on the sofa next to Hiou-kun. Then Kise noticed Ono was glaring at him. Ono opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, trumpets blared a fanfare. Kise (and everyone else) stared at the door as it flew open. Two Roman centurions (Kise recognized them from his history book) walked in, still blowing on trumpets; behind them strode President Takarada, dressed as Julius Caesar. 

Kise winced and wondered if it would be rude to plug his ears. Hiou-kun was doing so; Kise tried for discretion.

“Shingai-kun,” President Takarada said, walking up to embrace Director Shingai. The trumpeters put their instruments down and filed back out again quietly. Around the room, hands moved away from ears. 

“You’ve kept everyone waiting,” Director Shingai said with a smile. “I was about to send out for tea.”

President Takarada dropped himself on the sofa next to Tsuruga. “Now the show can go on,” he said, grinning. 

Director Shingai nodded, standing up and clearing his throat. “As you may have noticed, this is not an open audition. The four of you are here because the President has recommended you for leading roles. Any roles left over will be filled at the general audition. Because this is a musical, we’ll start with a singing audition, then move on to the dancing and acting scenes. I trust you have studied your music and your audition lines.”

Recommended for a leading role! Kise beamed, throwing President Takarada a look of gratitude. He froze as he realized President Takarada was watching him without a hint of a smile on his face. 

Kise had been with LME long enough to pick up gossip about the President and how to read him; if the president wasn’t smiling at you (or acting in some other dramatic fashion), you were in trouble. Was this about Kise withdrawing from Gemini? Was the President unhappy that Kise had quit after only three singles? But then why would the President have recommended Kise for a leading role? And if it wasn’t about Gemini, then why was the President looking at Kise as if Kise had done something he deserved to be lectured for?

Kise felt his face shift in confusion. 

The corners of the President’s mouth moved down fractionally. 

_What did I do?_ Kise silently asked the powers that be, but of course, no one responded. Then Kise remembered what he was supposed to be doing, and he frantically tuned back in.

“—sing any song you like,” Director Shingai was saying. “Kise-kun, as the professional singer among us, if you would be so kind as to start us off?” 

Kise nodded, standing up. What had Asahi-sensei said about this song again? _I don’t know what your family is like, but if you have someone important to you that you miss and haven’t seen, someone you don’t know when you’ll see again… ask the gods to tell you where they are. No need to beg… just ask nicely._

Kise pictured his grandmother and took a breath.

* * *

The President was smiling at the end of Kise’s song, and Kise sat down in relief. Hiou-kun and Tsuruga had also sung “Where is Love?” (Director Shingai stopped them after a few bars; Tsuruga in particular was merely an average singer), but Ono had chosen “Consider Yourself” and delivered all of it with gusto. Then Kise had survived a reading acting as Oliver to Tsuruga’s Dodger. Acting opposite Tsuruga, it had been too easy to sink into the character of Oliver, starving, hungry for affection, soaking up all the friendship the Dodger offered. _Notice me, Tsuruga-san. Be my friend. Ask me to join you._ The President had nodded at the end of their reading, enabling Kise to relax a little.

Now, though, Kise was Dodger, Ono was Oliver, and Kise had to extend friendship to the man who Kise knew had tried to push Kise off a train platform not that long ago. “How green,” Kise said, smiling down at Ono who was seated on the floor. _Be nice to him._ “A beak’s a magistrate, and when you’re walking on beak’s orders, you’re fleeing the law. But of course, I’m at a low watermark myself, only a bob and a magpie, but as far as it goes, I’ll fork and—“

“Stop,” Director Shingai said. He sighed. “What’s your history, you two?”

Ono eyed Kise, then turned towards the director. “We both auditioned as Gemini’s front man.”

Director Shingai tilted his head to the right. “Is that all? Kise-kun, you won that audition; is it that hard to extend friendship to someone you’ve defeated?”

Kise eyed Ono in return. Ono bit his lip. Kise glanced at President Takarada (interested), Hiou-kun (unconcerned), then Tsuruga (professionally bland.) “It’s a long story,” Kise said, “But neither of us likes the other, I’m afraid.” Ono glanced sharply at Kise. President Takarada shifted position but remained silent. 

Director Shingai glanced at President Takarada and then at Kise before shaking his head. “Switch roles. I know I’ve seen you as Oliver already, Kise-kun, but do it anyway.” 

Kise sat on the floor after Ono had gotten up, giving Ono plenty of room. _Lonely orphan, starved for affection and attention from anyone,_ Kise repeated in his head. _Even from Ono._

“Hello, my covey, what’s the row?” Ono said, swaggering up to Kise.

Kise looked up. “I’ve walked a long way, sir, for seven miles.”

“Beak’s order, eh?” Ono shifted from one leg to the other and eyed Kise sharply. “I don’t suppose you know what a beak is, my flash companion.”

“I believe it’s a bird’s mouth, sir.”

Ono chuckled. “How green,” he said, looking down at Kise, but there was something in his eyes as he continued. “A beak’s a magistrate, and when you’re walking on beak’s orders, you’re fleeing the law. But of course, I’m at a low watermark myself, only a bob and a magpie”—Ono extended his hand to Kise and winked—“but as far as it goes, I’ll fork and out and stump. Come on, up on your pins,” Ono said with a friendly tilt of his head. 

Ono waved his hand in front of Kise; he grabbed Ono’s hand, and Ono pulled. Kise was quite a bit taller than Ono; he hadn’t noticed earlier when Ono had been playing Oliver, but wasn’t it bad for Oliver to be so much taller than the Dodger? Kise wondered if he should hunch, but it was too late now to make it seem natural.

“Where are you going?” Ono asked.

“London, sir,” Kise said, still thinking about what he should do in order not to look so tall next to Ono-as-Dodger.

“Then I guess you’ll be needing some lodgings. I know a—“

“Cut,” Director Shingai said. “Kise-kun, thank you for coming. I’ve seen all I need to see from you today. President Takarada and I will contact you later with the results.”

* * *

President Takarada had invited Director Shingai to visit him that evening to discuss the audition, and Takarada knew Sebastian had made sure to have on hand some of Shingai’s favorite assam tea. When Shingai showed up that evening, he took a sip of the tea, relaxed, and smiled at Takarada. “You have some interesting young talent on your roster,” he said.

Takarada smiled. “I try to attract the best. What did you think?”

“Tsuruga Ren is a rare jewel, but we all knew that,” Shingai said. “Hiou-kun’s young, but has fine instincts. You have nothing to worry about with those two.”

Takarada nodded. He’d expected as much. “And the other two?”

Shingai made a face. “Ono-kun is getting desperate. What’s his story?”

“People don’t seem to like working with him.” Takarada sighed, stretching out on the sofa. “When he signed with us we thought he had talent, but that talent hasn’t developed as we would like. It’s been two years; his contract is coming up for renewal soon. I’m afraid that he may turn out to be one of our regrets.”

“Are you hoping a role in _Oliver!_ will give him a chance outside of LME?”

“Well,” Takarada smiled lightly, “it wouldn’t do for an ex-LME talent to sink immediately.”

They sipped at their tea in companionable silence, and then Shingai sighed. “Kise-kun is… interesting.”

Takarada raised an eyebrow. “I hear a ‘but’.”

“Good memory, good attitude, and if you can get him in the right light, your eyes are drawn to him almost against your will,” Shingai said. “He was made for the spotlight. Charisma like that is hard to find; a good amount of that is born. Tsuruga Ren has it. It’s too early to tell for Hiou-kun. Kise-kun has it. I like him, and he’s a surprisingly good singer for someone who began six months ago.”

Takarada accepted the unspoken exclusion of Ono with a slight nod. 

“But.” Shingai sighed and shook his head. “You saw the difference between him and Ono during that Dodger read. Leaving aside the fact that Kise-kun is as tall as Tsuruga-kun and therefore less convincing in child roles, he’s just not ready for live theater. In film and TV recordings, you can always do another take. I haven’t screen-tested him, but if his modeling pictures are anything to go by, he’ll do fine there. But his inexperience shows all too clearly when he’s acting live with the possibility of going off-script.” 

Shingai didn’t seem like he was done, so Takarada motioned for him to continue.

Shingai sipped at his tea and sighed. “I just spent five minutes explaining why I can’t use Kise-kun… and yet, I can’t get myself to drop him.” He passed Takarada a piece of paper. 

Takarada scanned the page. He nodded.

* * *

Later that night, as Kise was lying in bed, he heard his phone vibrate and found an e-mail from Director Shingai in his mailbox. Either the discussion with President Takarada had gone on forever, or Director Shingai was a workaholic who kept long hours. Kise opened the e-mail.

``

> `Thank you for auditioning today. After much consideration, we've cast the principal roles as follows:`
> 
> `Tsuruga Ren: Bill Sykes  
> Uesugi Hiou: Oliver  
> Ono Makoto: Dodger  
> Kise Ryouta: Understudy for Oliver and Dodger`
> 
> `You do not need to be at the general audition, but please be at the first rehearsal on…`

  
Kise stopped reading. Nee-san had been copied on the e-mail, so Kise didn’t have to tell her. He put his phone back down on the side table and lay his head back on his pillow, wondering what he could have done better. Getting beaten by Tsuruga Ren was one thing, but even Ono had done better than Kise had.

Should he have said something about what had happened in Shibuya? It hadn’t felt right, somehow, as if saying it would disqualify Ono on grounds other than acting. It wouldn’t have been the way Kise would have liked to win the audition.

But he hadn’t won. And now that he hadn’t won, saying something would definitely be sour grapes.

Kise let out a soft hiss of frustration and stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t see it clearly in the dark, but it was as good a place as any to focus on. He stared all night, listening for the wind, hearing nothing but his own breathing.

* * *

The next morning, Kise’s sister and his mother both took one look at him and ordered Kise back to bed. 

Kise asked his sister to deliver the basketballs to school for him. “Some really tan guy, about my size but more muscles, dark blue hair. He lost his basketball when he saved me from falling off the train platform. Maybe he’s with the basketball club? There aren’t that many guys with blue hair at Teikou anyway, so you might even be able to ask around.”

Both his mother and sister had fussed—Kise had entirely forgotten to tell them about what had happened in Shibuya, and they’d thought the stains on his pants had been the result of brushing against something dirty on the way home from school—but finally they calmed down and Nee-san set off with the gift in tow. Kise slipped into bed again and eventually drifted off, his last thought of a dark skinned Artful Dodger, holding a hand out to Kise, his face obscured by the shadow of the spotlight shining from behind him into Kise’s eyes, a tuft of dark blue hair sticking out from under his top hat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Feb 14, 2014] Three out of seven scenes in the now-retracted chapter 5 of Kise no Copy have to be scrapped and rewritten from scratch. Chapter 6, half-written, will need to be re-drafted. Two out of four of the major/minor plot threads now have to be re-plotted and the outline re-drawn in order to make sure continuity works as it should and take into account altered motivations.
> 
> I'm committed to getting as much of Kise no Copy out as possible before Kaijou faces Fukuda Sougou in the Winter Cup in the anime, but I also need to get through February and early March with my sanity intact! T_T In other words, chapter five is going to be delayed somewhat due to RL. T_T *whimpers* I hate making excuses, but my plate is overflowing. I co-own a game studio, I am a full time graduate student, and I am trying to get an accounting license before I start work (I graduate in May and start work 2 days after Convocation.) My game studio is releasing a final version in the next two weeks. I have a major mid-term on Monday, the final part of the previously-mentioned major tax licensing exam in two weeks, and a major group paper/presentation combination the week after that. 
> 
> In order for you to not miss a chapter (because I know Tumblr announcements sneak by VERY quickly), if you have an AO3 account, you can subscribe to the fic (there's a "subscribe" button on top available to logged-in users), and AO3 will e-mail you when I update it! If you need an invitation to AO3, please contact me with your e-mail address and I will have the invitation e-mailed to you directly! <3
> 
> I am VERY SORRY about the take-back and I hope you will like the new and hopefully-much-improved version when it is finally rewritten. <3


End file.
